#'they make everyone coddle him' (maybe he Deserves It after getting Decades of NO CODDLING AT ALL) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

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A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body.

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can.

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso.

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again.

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window.

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit.

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for.

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock.

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful.

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain.

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it?

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can.

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge.

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use.

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore.

K = Kinks

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity.

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold.

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence.

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench.

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail.

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest.

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”)

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.

#ysijwa #harry styles smut #vampire!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles mature #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction

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diosefm · 4 years ago

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FROM THE DESK OF DIOSE VALEY II

when: all of these letters were written during the dawn of day two of the train hijack where: written in her train car, all letters were left on people’s rooms in the morning of day two. for those in train one, letters should be delivered the next time everyone sees each other triggers: mentions of death, threats of violence, paranoia mentions: cabil, mommy pista, @pista-clearmark , @givcnup , @cinnc, @swannscngs , @blythefm , @sinksand & tiberius who is still dead

CABIL,

I know that after your conversation you probably do not wish to hear of me again, and I understand. After everything that has happened and what has been done to you, I don’t think that us Capitol people really deserve people’s pity. I don’t intend to ask you for that, nor do I want to ask for your forgiveness. I just needed to write you this and thank you for not coddling me.

I deserved it. And not because I want to victimize myself. I’ve never been a victim, more like a victimizer. I am seeing that now. It’s almost astounding what you can realize when those you have hurt have the opportunity to tell you what they really think about you in your face. And you might have not done that outright, but your message was very clear to me.

I won’t bore you with my inner conflicts. I am writing this because Pista mentioned something to me, something about you having someone waiting for you back home. And again, I know that this really isn’t any of my business but this is something I really want to do and would be honored if you say yes.

In the event that you were to marry your girlfriend, I would love to pay for everything and offer my services as a designer. You don’t have to say yes. All I ask is that you keep this letter and if one day you are able to forgive me, my offer will still stand.

Best wishes, Diose Valey.

HELENA,

I apologize for subjecting you to this. I can only imagine how awkward it must be to receive a letter from a complete stranger, especially one that is so deeply personal and filled with apologies.

But, I feel the need to apologize for putting your son in danger. It was easy for me to just involve Pista because I vaguely knew of him and his knowledge of trains and that was the only thing that mattered to me. It wasn’t until I saw the way you looked at him that something stirred inside of me. It made me think of my own mother, made me wonder if she had ever looked at me with such love and devotion. I’m scared of finding the answer.

I don’t want to talk about you. My intention is to tell you how sorry I am that I involved Pista in my plans. They worked, yes, but we were lucky. No, more than that. Your son refused to leave me when things god bad. I wanted to make him promise that he wouldn’t because I kept thinking of you and I couldn’t let something happen to him and hurt you. But he shot me down. And not only that, but showed me the empathy I never expected to receive given who I am. That’s what made me see what an amazing job you did raising him. I can only hope that if life ever gives me the chance of being a mother, I can be like you.

Once again, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for dumping this on you and for almost taking Pista away from you.

PISTA,

It wasn’t until I was able to lie down in bed that I remembered you. Your face was familiar, of course. I’d catch glances of you every year at the Capitol, but I couldn’t quite place you until I was left alone with my thoughts. At first I only remembered you due to Slate mentioning you during our conversations. It’s what made me come to you for help. My head just told you knew trains, having always being a hard worker who never got into trouble. But of course, Slate never mentioned your games. I remembered those on my own.

I was just a teenager so the memories are fuzzy at best. And of course, I didn’t pay attention. I was self absorbed, just saw a sobbing boy I foolishly thought had a lot of growing up to do. But there is always more than meets the eye. It’s curious, really. I would have never thought that decades later you would be the one actually helping me mature.

You didn’t have to help me. You could’ve just left me to my own devices and stayed with your people. I keep thinking about your mother, about how I wouldn’t forgive myself if you didn’t come back to her because of my doing. It’s why I begged for you to not wait for me. Slate never taught me anything. I just couldn’t bear the thought of being the one that left a mother without her child. Which is stupid, really. That is something I have been doing for decades, just dressing up children before they’re sent to their deaths. And I know that many of the parents do want their children there, but I refuse to use that to justify my actions. Maybe that worked in the past, but not anymore.

I don’t think I really understood what empathy was until who had some for me despite of who I am. And yes, I am aware of how awful that sounds now. I wasn’t lying to you when I said I was working on dealing with all of this. I’ll keep trying.

GRIFFIN,

Thank you.

I could say more. Go on a tangent and talk about how much I dislike you, but that is unnecessary right now. All that you told me did bother me, but it was all because none of the things you mentioned were a lie. I guess that’s what I needed. And I hope you enjoyed it, because it is not happening again. Not because I cannot bear the thought of you having the upper hand, but because I hope that after everything that has happened, we can see eye to eye.

You might not know this, but I was very close to Nelly once. And despite everything and the years I spent away from her, i still trust her judgement. And if she likes you and has taken care of you for years, it must be because you are worth it. I just pray you don’t ruin anymore of my dresses. Hating you is pointless, especially over something to silly. And now that we are seeing eye to eye now, well, I’ve taken it upon me to ensure you don’t hurt that woman.

You are a good man, Griffin Cripes. I apologize for not seeing it until now.

CINNA,

This is obvious to everyone, but it still has to be said. I need to confront these feelings if I truly want to be be able to seek repentance.

I tried to sabotage you. I screamed and complained for what seems like hours, angry that someone had dared to overshadow me. I blamed you for whatever minuscule thing that happened to ruin my day when you first started working for the games. I made plans, swore I would find a way to ensure you would not get any more work after what had been done to me. I thought you were personally trying to ruin my reputation, but it was just my paranoia and Tiberius encouragement making it all worse.

I feel like the past few days my mind has come up with a million excuses that would attempt to paint me as the victim, but I swear that is never my intention. I have a lot to work on, just like I have so many people I need to apologize to. And you’re one of them, hence this letter.

It is an awful attempt at it, I know. I keep repeating this to myself and others, but I am trying. I promise I will have something better once we see each other face to face again. I just need time to properly deal with my own conflicting emotions, but I am sure you understand.

SWANN,

My behavior in the past was not the best. Not towards you, and especially not towards Virgo.

I was possessive and overprotective, that I am ready to accept now. Paranoid too. With so many people whispering into my ears, I was led to believe you had ulterior motives and did not truly care about my sibling. But it was far from it, wasn’t it? I certainly could have brought this up during our conversation, give you a better apology but... Maybe I am a coward. Destroying lives and relationships is easy, but building them is what I seem to struggle with.

Even after our meeting, I left your train car and still asked myself if I had done enough to apologize. After a few hours, I realized I hadn’t. So you get this stupid, sentimental letter that is still not gonna feel like enough. Virgo would be much better at all of this, but I don’t have them with me right now. But on their behalf, I owe you not only several apologies, but a big thank you.

They are not like me. It has its pros and its cons. They’re their own person, and many of what they’ve accomplished is also because of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you this.

---

TIBERIUS,

With your connections, I am sure that by the time you read this you will know what I have done.

I don’t regret anything, Tiberius. If I am writing you one last letter before I put an end to our correspondence for good is because I need you to understand how much I’ve learned to despise you these past few weeks. I almost can’t believe that at one point I dared to think that I ha— No, I’m not doing this.

If I see you lurking around me, my sibling, or Slate I swear that all the things I’ve done to people throughout the years (so many of them for your own benefit) will seem like mere child’s play compared to what will happen if you force me to unleash my rage upon you. The bullshit about everyone that isn’t us being an enemy is over. I know who the real enemy is now.

I’m not scared of you. Never was, and never will. Fuck you.

BLYTHE,

I don’t know the truth. Virgo won’t talk to me, but they’re also absolutely terrible at keeping things hidden. I’ve seen the letters and the paintings, so I can only assume that something is going on between you two. And it did bother me. First because I didn’t think you were enough. I told myself that was the only reason, that I was just looking out for them but now I’ve realized I was tricking myself into not accepting that for the first time in my life, I was jealous of them.

You probably won’t care about this. In fact, I am sure that before I finish this sentence this letter will already be destroyed. But I need to put this somewhere not only for my own sake, but for Virgo. If there is someone that does not deserve to suffer because of me, it’s them.

They had a proper childhood, I did not. They are now able to experience something I have only heard about due to those corny TV dramas they love so much. And it hurts. I kept it to myself. Showing vulnerability is something I have never allowed myself to do, but when it involves love and caring, I had to bury my feelings somewhere. Except I buried my worries and let my anger and jealousy affect them. It’s not happening again. Regardless of these feelings still being present, I cannot continue hurting them just because for once, they’re thriving at something I am not.

If you are still reading, this letter is a plea for you to take care of them. And a threat as well. Because if you dare to hurt them in any way, I can promise you that all those feelings I’ve buried will come out and you will learn what dealing with what I am capable of doing when I am upset.

AVEN

I loved Desmond. Friendships don’t come easy to me, but he was talented enough to change that and earn a place in my inner circle. His last name helped, yes, but at the end of the day that was not why we remained closed.

After he was gone, blaming you was easy. Spreading rumors gave me a purpose, made me believe I had the upper hand, that I still knew better. But what I made others whispers behind your back wasn’t the only information we had. Many of us just refused to listen to it. At the end it benefitted no one but Snow.

I’m sorry you lost your husband. That was what you deserved to hear years ago instead of our complaints and unfounded grievances. I have no way of fixing the damage I caused. I will not attempt to excuse it. It happened and you suffered deeply for it. That is what matters.

Maybe one day you will allow me to not only explain myself, but apologize. I still have a lot to do in regards to facing all the horrible things I did and what the Capitol’s indoctrination did to my psyche, but I hope that by the time we have a chance to see each other, I will have more to offer you than an I’m sorry.

#emberstask #sp #DIOSE VALEY'S REDEMPTION TOUR 2K21 #dm me for a free tshirt

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team-council · 4 years ago

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These are my Alina/Cadence HCs bc I lowkey ship them! Note that for this I’m assuming gay couples are automatically bad matches bc they can’t reproduce. Also this contains some HCs that just pertain to these characters and not exclusively their relationship.

Also big thanks to @everyonehasthoughts for listening to me ramble about this + also coming up with some of the ones featured here

• Alina and Cadence are about the same age and they have been dating in secret since they were 16

• Because Alina always wanted to be in the nobility, they mutually agreed it would be best for her reputation that things stayed on the DL between them

• However, as they got older Cadence grew less secure about this. She wasn’t happy feeling like she had to keep her love for Alina a secret, but mostly just worried frequently that their relationship was more of a burden on Alina than anything else

• Cadence isn’t very open with her feelings, so while Alina was able to tell something was wrong with her she could get Cadence to elaborate on it- mostly because Cadence was worried Alina would feel guilty about her discontentment.

• Alina herself hates the arrangement as well. She’s a very proud person and it literally kills her that she can’t go to parties and watch people writhe with jealousy as she dances with the prettiest girl (Cadence) in the room, or that she can’t gush about all of the amazing research Cadence does to everyone she meets. But most of all, of course, she hates that she can’t give Cadence the life they both deserve together.

• Alina, however, is willing to brave this- or so she thinks. She’s certain that one day she and Cadence will be married after Alina’s been in the nobility- maybe even on the council- just long enough to change the system for the better

• Cadence, on the other hand, can’t bear it any longer. She’s already naturally a distant person and the pull of her research quickly becomes an enticing escape from her anxieties about her relationship with Alina.

• Cadence officially breaks things off with Alina when she leaves to research the ogres on a more personal level, telling her that it’s not her fault and that she just wants to focus on research at the moment.

• Alina is absolutely devastated. Despite wanting to support Cadence’s dream she does beg her to stay. Like beg beg, like fucking sobs

• Cadence is extremely distressed by this and leaves before she can change her mind, believing they’ll both be happier if they focus on their respective ambitions.

• Alina doesnt take this very well. All her life she’s dreamt of having someone to love. She’s terrified of being alone and she wants desperately for someone else to love her- because despite the vanity she fronts, she’s not capable of doing it herself

• Alden has been interested in Alina for some time, and since he’s on her match list she decides to pursue him.

• The two hit it off surprisingly well, and while Alina doesn’t love him as deeply as she loves Cadence Alden makes her feel cared for and important and serves as a welcomed respite from her heartache and fears of lonliness

• This does not last, as Alden moves on from her extremely abruptly, getting with Della

• Since Cadence is in Ravagog- somewhere Alina would have a hard time getting to her even if she had the balls to face her again (which she does not)- Alina decides in utter desperation to pursue Alden despite his rejecting her

• She can’t handle another heartbreak

• She can’t handle feeling like she isn’t good enough again

• She needs to be loved

• We all know how it goes from there for her

• While this is going down with Alina, Cadence is having a much different experience with the ogres

• At first her new, freeing lifestyle keeps her mind off Alina. She’s happier on her boat, able to research as she pleases, able to isolate herself with her work without being bothered or subjected to ridicule from elves not particularly fond of her ogre-centric studies

• But even Cadence’s solitary disposition has its limits, and in her early year’s at Ravagog things are /hard/ for her. She doesn’t have any elven friends and the ogres still don’t trust her enough to truly be companions

• She feels entirely alone sometimes and spends many nights staring at her imparter, wanting to call Alina. To tell her everything she’s been through, to excitedly ramble about her research, to complain about Dimitar’s god awful temper, to cry because no matter how hard she tries to stomach it her mind gets a bit weaker with each display of violence she’s shown- something that ogres see her as lesser for, even despite the fact that she doesn’t look down on them for those practices in the first place like other elves do

• She never does call her though

• Her time in Ravagog amplifies some of her best traits- her curiosity, her compassion, her patience- but also some of her worst- her reclusive tendencies and her emotional reservation specifically.

• It’s decades before Lady Cadence is called back to teach at Foxfire

• Alina begs the council to pick another mentor for Sophie, but can’t press it too hard without looking suspicious

• They spend a long time avoiding one another, adverting their eyes in the staff rooms and halls, sitting on opposite ends of the table at meetings

• But before they know it they start gravitating towards one another again

• At first it’s little things like soft, stolen glances or pacing at one another’s sides on the way to a conference

• Then they start talking again

• Cadence arranged for them to have tea during their free time. They chat and catch up and pretend like nothing happened

• Then Alina invites Cadence to dinner at her house, where she ends up breaking down. Cadence cuddles her as she does her best to explain what happened with Alden, how small and disposible she felt when he left her, how she felt like just being with him was a betrayal of Cadence

• Cadence assured her that it’s alright, she tells Alina she’s loved and she’s important, she promises her that things will get better and fights tears of her own

• There’s so much more cadence wants to say, baggage of her own that she’s about to collapse under the weight of

• But, again, she’s had to overcompensate for her weaknesses living with ogres. She’s even worse about her emotions now than she was before and crams them all into a box and shoved them away

• Alina can tell this, but unlike before she’s determined not to give up. She’s going to make thing’s right. She’s going to make sure Cadence Talle, who has spent her life understanding others, is finally understood herself

• And then Councillor Kenric dies.

• They’re both made candidates for the councillor position

• When Alina’s elected it’s unlike she ever imagined it would be. This isn’t going to be in and out. It’s not a matter of changing the match system or garnering respect for the talentless. She’s smack in the middle of a war. The man who held her position previously was murdered. It’s a greater commitment than she ever wanted out of the nobility, and it comes to her right when she’s finally got Cadence back again after so many years

• Cadence encourages her to take the position. She’s stuck at Foxfire anyways so it isn’t like she’s going anywhere. She’s- endlessly- worried about Alina’s safety, but she keeps those fears to herself. If Alina’s to be a councillor, Cadence will need to trust and respect her as a leader, not coddle her like a lover- much as she might like to.

• Alina eventually relents and takes up her new position

• The two keep in contact with calls here and there, but Alina is more busy than she’s ever been and after Ravagog is destroyed Cadence demands time away from her duties at foxfire to visit and help with damage control and recovery

• The next time they’re alone in person again Cadence is lying unconscious in an infirmary bed

• When Alina got the news that she had been attacked at Havenfield she dropped everything to visit her. It was impossible to pry her from her side. She sat next to her bed and gripped her hand as tightly as she could in her own, begging her to wake up and be alright

• Cadence doesn’t take too long to come around, and when she does she find’s her chest grows unbearably warm at the sight of Alina, whom she accepts that, in that moment, she is still completely in love with

• Cadence assured her that she’s fine, even attempting to get out of bed in order to hug her. This does not work. Alina has to drag her back onto the bed before Elwin bursts in and tells them both off

• It takes Cadence a while to talk Alina out of assigning her a body guard, and Alina relents only just barely under the logic that the attack wasn’t targeted at Cadence so there’s no need for concern

• Alina can tell that the incident weighs on her, but again she can’t get her to open up

• When Luminaria falls Alina, fortunately, sustains a few cuts and a couple broken bones like some of the other councillors but nothing too bad. By the time Cadence hear’s of the incident and comes running there’s not much to see of the accident anymore. But that doesn’t stop Cadence from pressing kisses against what of her is bandaged up (and dousing her in a number of different baked confections and flavorful teas)

• Again, they’re contact wanes for a little. Cadence is desperate to keep Dimitar from shutting the ogres away from the rest of the world and focussed most of her attention on that

• When they talk again it’s after Alina had been told that Cadence was the intended target of the Havenfield attack. Before she can start talking about bodyguards and security measures, however, Cadence finally breaks down.

• She clings to Alina like a child and recounts the interrogation session, how she’d failed to reason with the ogre, how he’d died as a result. Alina can’t empathize with her grief. She thinks of the assassin and bile rises in her throat. But she stifles her anger and holds cadence, promising that it isn’t her fault, that the work she’s done is good work, that the hatred he held for her was unwarranted and ill conceived

• When Cadence calms down she explains everything she’s been withholding. Her anxiety about their relationship, her paralyzing lonliness, her frustrations having to abandon her research, her still very real love for Alina

• Alina can’t help the few tears that come to her eyes. She’s finally got past Cadence’s walls, she can finally talk to her and comfort her like she needs to in order to help her feel secure

• Alina assures her that their relationship was never a burden, that she’s never been ashamed of Cadence, that she still loves her as well, and that she’d always be willing to take her back. They touch on other issues as well. Alina can’t entirely convince her that she doesn’t need to be constantly reserve herself they do make an agreement to be more open with one another

• They’re still plenty busy though, and mostly keep their interactions to friendly conversation and platonic affection as so not to threaten Alina’s position on the council. Alina has made plans to resign once the Neverseen is dealt with and marry Cadence like she’d always planned. Cadence is hoping that Alina won’t mind spending some of their time as a couple in Ravagog, and Alina’s hoping that Cadence won’t mind spending some time literally anywhere else

#wow this one is long #cadence deserves a good gf #and Alina’s not that bad tbh #this was originally gonna be a cadence/clarette/alina thing #but this is too long anyways #so here is this #keeper of the lost cities #lady cadence #cadence talle #councillor alina #long post tw

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years ago

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Jac & Savannah

Jac: [screenshot of a totally acceptable amount of messages from Isabelle] Jac: 😩😩😩 Jac: She is so mentally exhausting Savannah: The girl needs more extracurricular activities Savannah: netball is just not doing enough for her Jac: Seriously Jac: what sort of uni does she think she'll get into with that lack of variety 🙄🙄 Jac: never mind how boring it'll make her seem to any potential friends or boyfriends when she gets there, IF she gets there Savannah: do you think she'll even go, when she can't get into any of our choices? Savannah: she's so not ready to cut ties with you Jac: Honestly, I don't even know Jac: like, that is SO much pressure on me Jac: she doesn't even realize that, I swear Jac: or she doesn't care 🤷 Savannah: It's like having another little sister sometimes, I don't know how you've coped with her for so long Savannah: you're an actual living saint Jac: You're the saint for saving me ❤❤❤ Savannah: Isabelle drove Amelia away with all the pressure she puts on her friendships Savannah: I had to meet you & save you Jac: She did Jac: don't get me wrong, Meels could be hard work too but at times, I'd rather be on her side Jac: it's crazy how isolated I let her get me, you don't think badly of me, do you? Savannah: 😔 do you miss her, boo? 😢 Savannah: I think badly of Is for doing that to you Jac: I don't need either of them, I've got you Jac: neither of them can compete, or like anyone else we go to school with Jac: it happened so slowly, then all at once Jac: we need to think of a way to distract her Savannah: My heart! 🥰 You're the force for everything good in my life, I swear to god Savannah: I've got you, baby girl, what we need to do is find her a man who'll stay Savannah: Let me get Ty's phone Jac: You are the only thing from this life I'm taking with me into my actual life I'm gonna have Jac: when we get out of this place and make something of ourselves Savannah: ^^^👏 Yes Jac: 🤔 Who's lowkey dumb enough Jac: dumb might be harsh but like, he's gonna have to put up with A LOT to wanna, no offense 😂 Savannah: I'm not judging, you've known her longer than I have Savannah: & she's made sure you know her better too Jac: It's so juniors of her Jac: like of all the people who don't deserve that treatment ➡ you, the sweetest angel ever Jac: the possessiveness, just because we met like first day of school, doesn't mean we've got to live and die together now Jac: especially if you're not gonna grow with me, babe Savannah: It's fine, I can be the bigger person here Savannah: we both understand that the universe was not ready to put me on the same path as you the second that school started, even if she doesn't Savannah: she doesn't date black boys which is going to wipe out half of this list, not speculating wildly like that fact is related to why we're not BFFs though 🤫 Jac: 👑❤ Jac: I'm all about who's made the most positive change in my life, not who's been in it the longest, not sorry about that Jac: only 😎 colourblind if you're light enough Jac: the levels of problematic Jac: speaking of, who's that guy, the one who was BEYOND wasted at the last party? Savannah: She's scared of change, I feel bad for her, because we all know that's her mum trying to keep her childish Savannah: OH! 🙌 Carter Savannah: You're a genius Savannah: they can be problematic together and leave the rest of us out of it Jac: When you and your mother both need to get a hobby 😏 Jac: Right, though? Jac: Would that not be perfect Savannah: honestly! Savannah: he's at EVERY party, as long as Is doesn't have too many shots too early again Savannah: 💘👼🏻 Jac: and he's a sporty guy too Jac: like I would NEVER 😷 Jac: but she's SO welcome Savannah: When you go back two or three years & his name's on literally every 🏆🏆🏆 Savannah: OH MY GOD! YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT TY'S TOLD ME THIS SECOND Jac: ?????? Savannah: I'm shouting because his parents are going away THIS weekend 🙏 it's perfect Savannah: & of course I will sacrifice the precious alone time we could've had if it means you get some away from her Jac: 🌌🪐☄️☀️ timing Jac: you don't mind? ❤ Savannah: I don't know why he's only telling me now when there's no way he found out a second ago himself but I couldn't love him more for helping us make this happen so he's forgiven Savannah: it's fate baby, how could I mind? Good things happen every time I trust in that Savannah: She'll let you dress her, won't she? Jac: That's men for you Jac: can't say useless when they clearly have some but 🤭 bless Jac: If I commit to a shopping trip Jac: she keeps asking Jac: it'll be tiresome but worth it in the long run Savannah: He does not appreciate the recovery time on a wax when your skin is as sensitive as mine is, but that's a venting session for another day 🙄 Savannah: I'll obviously come with, unless you think that'll make it worse Jac: 🙄 How are more boys not genius level intelligent Jac: the amount of time they don't have to spend worrying about the things we do, and they're out here putting it to waste Jac: we would never, could never 💅 Jac: Of course I want you to come Jac: but we know she'll be in a better mood to party if I give her my undivided attention 🙄 Savannah: SO true Savannah: I'll give him mine then, make sure he's also in the mood to party Savannah: I can't handle a sulk, he looks too adorable, it makes me die Jac: 🙏 we need your free, boy Jac: get on board or I swear, I'm gonna lose it with her fully 😵😤😰 Savannah: we can lose her in his parents' sauna, hang in there 👼🏻 Jac: if we can make use before because I won't be getting in there after them 😷🤢 Savannah: You have to come over early anyway because my hair is a law onto itself right now & I will have a breakdown if Ty tells me to be natural one more time Savannah: can you not 👮 me, boy Savannah: I need to look beautiful for myself as well as you Jac: Self-love is so much more important Jac: I got you Savannah: if you don't see us at this party it's because we're arguing Savannah: I can feel it coming Jac: 😬 Jac: You know I'll cover for you, goes without saying Jac: is he like, under some kind of extra pressure rn, like what's his deal? Savannah: he insists he's not but he wouldn't ever normally jump down my throat for asking Savannah: so, like, you don't have to be a wannabe psychology student to realise there's something Jac: I think boys will remain a mystery, even when we get our PhDs Jac: A party will make him feel better Jac: it's clearly not about you though, you're the perfect girlfriend Savannah: I could cry Savannah: maybe I should just go home Jac: Honey Jac: Tell me where you need me to be Savannah: [a very them location] Jac: I'm there, babe ❤ Jac: Is there anything you need beside a listening ear and shoulder to cry on, obviously Savannah: take my phone when you get here so I don't contact him until I'm less of a wreck Jac: Duh Jac: nothing but totally composed, fully logical, 🧠 led texts only Jac: you are so NOT that girl Savannah: I don't want to be but I've got that child of divorce neediness now Savannah: I can't even blame him, I would NOT date me Jac: Don't even Jac: You are incredible Jac: a force of nature Jac: he's lucky to have you Savannah: You know how much I love you, right? Savannah: it's off any scale Jac: Of course, it's exactly how much I love you Jac: 👭🔥 Savannah: I swear to god, if we get Isabelle a man & I end up single, I will have to run away though Jac: No way Jac: he knows his luck, for his sins Savannah: I've given him way too much power to hurt me with by loving him as much as I do Savannah: I'm so lucky I also have you Savannah: & you would never Jac: It's all about trust Jac: and it's rare that you find anyone you can fully give your trust too in your life Jac: never mind multiple people Savannah: ^^^ Savannah: my parents didn't have it & they were together for like two decades Jac: It's sad Jac: so many people do and will settle for less Jac: I can't imagine how, honestly Savannah: you're on a different level to everyone else I've ever met Savannah: the word settle doesn't exist for you Jac: but you have to remember, you're on that level too Jac: I won't let you forget Jac: or settle Savannah: I'm scared that I've put all this energy into the wrong things Jac: You said it best, the universe knows what it's doing Jac: what you're ready for and what you're not, put your trust in it Jac: if this is meant to be more, it will be, if it's meant to be a teaching moment to make you an even better person, then it will be Savannah: you're BEYOND right Savannah: & you can never leave me, even if he does Jac: I never will Jac: I KNOW we're meant to be Savannah: Me too Savannah: my dad has shaken my faith in literally everything else but not us Jac: We're different Jac: we've known each other forever, I think Jac: countless past lives, and we're gonna keep knowing each other Jac: we're meant to do something big together, I can feel it Savannah: I feel too connected to you for that not to be true Jac: It is Jac: Whatever else, you can count on that, forever Savannah: you've made everything better Savannah: in this moment and all the rest Jac: That's what I'm here for Savannah: I'm supposed to also be here for you & I haven't asked how you are Savannah: SO selfish Savannah: Am I turning into Isabelle? Jac: your hair is not THAT wrecked, please 😏 Savannah: 😄 Savannah: I'm never getting it THAT flat Jac: Bless her Jac: if she'd lay off the highlights Savannah: we need to sit her down for a deep condition Jac: We could invite her to pre party prep... 🤔 Savannah: every day beforehand 😄 Jac: She's gonna need it Jac: ideally we'd have longer to do a full detox but you know Savannah: Even Ty agrees that we've got our hands full Savannah: he says Carter's too old for her 🤭 Jac: We all agree she could do with growing up a bit Jac: not that he isn't as immature 🙄 Jac: perfect couple 🚨 Savannah: when you went out with Eli he didn't say a word & he was the same age 💅 Jac: It's all down to her mum Jac: she's coddled her to the degree Is just gives off this PROTECT ME vibe Jac: Ty don't even know why Savannah: ^^^ Savannah: he thought she was a virgin still, it was so cute, baby boy no Jac: If everyone knew her how we do 👀🍵 Savannah: Enough about Is, who are you bringing & what are you wearing? Jac: [sends outfit options] Jac: 'cos lord knows all my attention will HAVE to go on her outfit when we go on this shopping trip Savannah: Oh you just have to go with the first one! I'm in LOVE Savannah: not even looking at the others, sorry Jac: 🤭🥰 that's decided then Jac: who I want to bring or if, is another question entirely Savannah: What about Cillian? I obviously don't mean the one in our year 🚫🚫🚫 Jac: He has potential Jac: did he go out with Sammy in our year though? Savannah: She asked him & he politely declined Jac: 😏 That makes him more promising Savannah: he doesn't date girls that aren't in his own year but I know he'd reconsider if you wanted him to Jac: you have the best ideas Savannah: He noticed when you got that mention in assembly, that was all you 🧠✨ Jac: At least he should be able to hold a conversation too then Savannah: I've heard him debate, he's really impressive Jac: Are you sure you don't wanna ask him, boo? 🤫🤭 Savannah: 😳 Jac: You totally like him Savannah: I can look & sometimes I do, don't judge me Jac: No judgment here Jac: it sounds like you have lots in common Savannah: We've attended a few of the same university lectures Jac: and he's cute Jac: I won't ask him Savannah: nothing's ever going to happen between me & him, so you should, if you think he's cute Jac: you can't say never Jac: who knows what the universe has in store for your future Savannah: Do you think Ty's going to end it? Jac: Of course not Jac: I don't think Ty will get into Uni Jac: you know it'll be different, especially when you get into your first choice and have to move away Savannah: His parents want him to stay here & he hasn't said he won't Jac: It takes a certain kind of man to follow 'round a girl Jac: and honestly, 'cos you know I'm always going to tell you how it is, because I care about you, okay? Jac: is that the sort of man you want, anyway Jac: what is his plan, after school Savannah: He doesn't believe in committing to a long term plan, besides us staying together, of course Savannah: you know I used to love that about him, because it's like he's the missing, more relaxed part of me Savannah: but lately the differences feel exhausting Jac: And that's now Jac: when you live in the same town, and see each other at least 5 days of the week without needing to do anything, put any effort in Jac: I just worry that the commitment-phobe is gonna jump out when it isn't that easy for him Savannah: oh god Jac: I could be wrong Jac: but I never want to keep anything from you Jac: even if it's hard to hear Savannah: Nobody knows me better than you Savannah: or has seen more of us as a couple Savannah: you're saying it because it needs to be said Jac: 😔 Jac: I am Jac: the last thing you need is to be blindsided by it Savannah: I can't go through that kind of heartbreak again, me & my dad still aren't talking Jac: You've had to be strong enough already Jac: like, he needs to think about what he wants, be clear with his intentions, you deserve that Jac: even if he isn't about making plans for himself, you can't live your life beholden to his lack of, it's not fair Savannah: This isn't a discussion I can have with him in [wherever they are] Savannah: 😢 Jac: Of course not Jac: your response would be beyond emotional Jac: you need to collect your thoughts first Savannah: Can I stay with you? Home is totally chaotic & I obviously can't stay at his Jac: You don't even need to ask Jac: there's always a place for you at mine Savannah: Thank you Jac: Jude isn't here and I can always make Jameson leave too Jac: not that they'll bother us Jac: total calm is needed Savannah: until Is decides she needs something Jac: 📴 Jac: she'll have to cope without me for five minutes Jac: you're so more important than any of her faux drama could ever be Savannah: It's going to be so embarrassing to have to share any of this with her Savannah: I can't Jac: You don't have to Jac: it's none of her business Jac: and you don't know yet, Ty might prove himself Savannah: what would I do without you? Jac: That's one question you don't need to worry about ❤ Savannah: We can still have the party, I'm not trying to ruin your life or that plan Jac: Oh, I don't care about that Jac: I just want you to feel better Jac: we can think about that later Savannah: I want the same for you though Savannah: I care that she's raising your stress levels daily Jac: I'll feel better when you do, I swear Savannah: this is going to make me sound awful but I think we have to still have the party because if we don't, he'll want to spend time with me anyway Savannah: & I'd rather have you there until I know what to do Jac: No, that's totally fair Jac: I'm more than down to go ahead Jac: project management will be a great distraction at any rate, and we can spend our Isabelle free hours actually talking about your plan going forward Savannah: I just can't lead him on by pretending everything's normal when it's not, you know? Jac: No, you don't want to lie Jac: that's not going to help anyone, and you owe it to yourself as well as him to remain as honest as you always are Savannah: I'm so glad you understand Jac: Always Savannah: I love him so much & I want him to be happy Savannah: but I can't sacrifice the future I have planned, I'd end up resenting him & it would eventually fall apart however hard I try Jac: Exactly Jac: it's about the people you're going to be, as well as the people you are now Jac: sometimes you have to harm to help, that's just facts Savannah: ^^^ Savannah: I'd have to stop growing & I'm not going to do that Jac: And you aren't saying he isn't going to grow too Jac: but you might need to acknowledge you aren't growing in the same directions Savannah: it hurts my heart that he could be growing away from me but it'll hurt us both more if I refuse to see it Savannah: we could get married & have babies, then we're a variation on who my parents are Savannah: my dad is a black male stereotype & he's made me a statistic, that's bad enough Jac: I get it, both my granddad's are the worst, actually Jac: they may as well not exist, honestly Jac: You're way too smart and wonderful to get stuck into that cycle Savannah: A bare minimum of what I want for my life is to break it Jac: ^^ Jac: Me too Jac: God knows it is overdue Savannah: I wish we had Is' privilege but that isn't who we are Jac: I could shake her Jac: she has no idea how easy she has it Savannah: 👏

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seriouslyhooked · 5 years ago

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The Same Soul (Part 3)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1, Chapter 2.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! So I am back again with another chapter of this new story, and I am happy to say that I like this rewritten version even better than the one I lost a few weeks back. Not only that, but I have also better developed the story idea and come up with a unique (but still typically me) CS tale of love and cuteness. It’s looking like it’ll be ten separate chapters and an epilogue at the moment, and they’ll all be bouncing around from Emma and Killian’s POVs in the past and the present. This particular chapter is one I am really excited for. It also takes place in the past (notice the italics), and it picks up where our last chapter left off but from Killian’s perspective. He and Emma are going to the fair for their date! Of course I had to lay down some basic facts of Killian’s life in the beginning section, and just a heads up for people, part of it is a little sad. Like Emma, Killian hasn’t had an easy life in this fic, but no worries – they’ll make each other happy and there will be lots of fluff ahead. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I would love to hear what you all think!

(Past)

“Damn it, why did I say seven? I should have said earlier. What the bloody hell was I thinking?”

Killian muttered the words aloud as he stared at the gilded antique clock on the mantel of his Uncle Benjen’s study. If he were less fixated on his desire for time to speed up, Killian would probably marvel again at how that one item alone easily cost more than two months of his brother Liam’s salary. His Uncle Benjen spared no expense on the furnishings in this house, and Killian got the feeling it didn’t even make a dent in the massive fortune of his father’s younger brother. Besides, this house was one of the largest in the county, and this county was apparently one of the richest in America. It seemed only right that the decor should be as over the top and astronomically pricy as the real estate itself.

Unlike Killian’s father, who had been a degenerate and a drunk nearly all his adult life, Benjen Jones was a man of status and steady purpose. Killian had only recently met him in person. Prior to this summer, their relationship had strictly consisted of a card and a check at his birthday and Christmas, but Uncle Benjen seemed to be the opposite of Killian’s father, Brennan, in many ways. Luckily, Killian didn’t have many personal memories of the rat bastard who once terrorized them, but he remembered enough. Where Brennan had never been interested in holding down a job for more than a chance to buy more cheap booze and neglect the needs of his family, Benjen was a work horse. In twenty years, he went from a nobody in London to a household name in America. He’d represented clients in dozens of high-profile cases and had used that star power to leverage himself into ownership of more than a dozen high-end firms around the country.

Now Benjen was a certifiable legal powerhouse here in the States, and he could clearly afford to retire several times over. It became clear to Killian the moment he walked through the doors that Benjen must be the source of the money they’d had these last few years. With his mother out of work, Killian always wondered how they could get by on just Liam’s military salary, but that query was put to rest upon arrival. His Uncle had millions, but having that money hadn’t impacted his drive. One thing that was very apparent about his uncle to Killian was the man’s tendency towards competitiveness. Benjen hated to lose, and he hated to be idle. He talked of little except for work, and Killian assumed he thought of little else as well. There was always some other goal to chase and some other case to win. For that reason, he’d never settled down or had children of his own, and so when Killian had showed up here a few weeks before, it was immediately apparent that Benjen was at a loss of what to do or how to act.

Not that anyone was particularly good at addressing a wayward seventeen-year-old kid whose mother had recently passed away and whose brother had been shipped off to another war zone as part of his job. There were probably how-to books on this kind of stuff, like Teenage Trauma for Dummies or some shit, but Killian assumed they were all full of crap. There was no way to write out a reasoned plan for how to deal with loss of this kind, and Killian understood that because he’d come to learn over the past few months that grief was unknowable. It was different for everyone and handled in a million varying ways depending on the person. Killian’s own grief was still undefined, and each day his hurt felt just as new and fresh as the day he lost his mother. For that reason, Killian was glad that Uncle Benjen never tried to coddle him or confront the elephant in the room. It was the last thing he wanted, and clearly his Uncle, for whatever shortcomings he may have on a guardianship front, could understand that at least in part.

“You know the clock never hastens for those who watch it, my dear.”

The unexpected words made Killian jump, his sudden motion jostling the chair in which he sat. He hadn’t realized anyone else was in this wing of the house, and he imagined he was quite alone. When he looked up though, he realized it was only Mrs. Potts, the older woman who took care of things around here for his Uncle. She was a kind soul, and though she had decades of life on him, he noticed the woman never lacked for energy. She could put him to shame with the way she ran about this house organizing, cooking, and keeping things afloat. It took a small army to keep up with a place like this, but Mrs. Potts never broke a sweat, and though Killian had tried to resist her nurturing ways, it was fruitless. The woman’s calling was taking care of people, and in a moment like this, that kind of care was welcome to Killian.

“I know it doesn’t, but still I can’t help trying,” he confessed and Mrs. Potts smiled warmly before patting his arm.

“It’s a terrible trait of time. When we want it to slow it quickens, and when we want it to fly it drags. Dreadfully annoying. But you know what would kill some time? Telling me what has you so tied in knots.”

Oh damnit, there it was. Killian had foolishly hoped that maybe he could get through the day unnoticed, but how could he? Mrs. Potts was only commenting at all because he’d been so different the past twenty-four hours. He could only imagine the changes she witnessed. One day he was just going through the motions, not angry per se, but definitely withdrawn. The only being he let near him for prolonged periods of time was Missy, and though he took care to never be downright rude, he tried to make it clear that he wanted nothing extensive to do with any person he had met here. But after last night and all through today, he had been buzzing with energy and excitement. He’d been smiling, something that he hadn’t done in ages before yesterday, and that feeling of happiness was so strong it even outweighed the worry that he’d somehow fuck this up that currently turned his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel hope for the first time in a long time, and the reason for that was wrapped up in one beautiful, transcendent girl named Emma Swan.

Finding her in the forest yesterday had felt like a trick of the light. It was as if he’d been craving goodness for so long that his mind created a figment of miraculous imagination. It took more than a moment to believe his luck could change so drastically. After everything, he didn’t even feel worthy of standing in the presence of this girl. She was perfect, doting on his dog with kind, easy affection, and then standing and facing him, stealing his breath all at once. Her golden hair, her piercing jade eyes, and her curious and cautious expression had all done him in. But more than that it was the aura around her that called to him. The sun shone through the trees, flittering in with a warming light, but it was Emma that seemed to radiate brightest. It almost hurt to look at her, but he never wanted to stop. He could have stayed in that first moment forever.

“Silly me,” Mrs. Potts said with a chuckle, pulling Killian from his runaway thoughts. “Here I am asking a question I know half the answer to already. After all, the only thing that puts a look like that on a young man’s face is a beautiful girl.”

“How could you know that?” Killian asked, and the older woman smiled.

“My dear, I hate to tell you that it’s obvious, but you’re not exactly hiding anything. It’s clear as day you’ve found a little dose of happiness, and after the year you’ve had I think it’s well deserved.”

Mention of the trying nature of this past year should have hurt him, but Killian felt immune to the pain of remembrance for once. To say that Emma was unexpected didn’t do the situation justice. For almost a year Killian had felt lost and unmoored. The passing of his mother was more painful than words could ever articulate, and it didn’t matter that he’d had months to say goodbye to her. If anything it was worse to see her suffer and to incrementally lose more hope each and every day. By the end, her leaving him had been a given, and when she was finally gone Killian thought he would feel relief. Instead he felt paralyzed and completely unsure of what to do and where to go from there. Life had become about helping his Mum and getting her through the worst demon any of them had ever faced, and when it was just him and Liam left, Killian didn’t know how to act or who to be. How did you live in a world where one of the most important parts of your universe just disappeared? It left an aching sense of emptiness, something physically painful, and nothing and no one had helped to dull that pain until Emma.

“Her name is Emma,” Killian admitted, and for once Mrs. Potts clammed up, no doubt hoping he’d say more. “I met her yesterday. She goes to the camp in town and we got to talking. I asked her to the fair tonight.”

“Oh the fair! Well how marvelous, or as the kids would say, that’s like ‘totally far out!’” Mrs. Potts said, attempting a horrendous show at an American accent, and after a moment of trying to contain his reaction, Killian gave in, laughing at the words she’d chosen. She was no doubt impersonating some kind of American TV reference, but her delivery was shoddy at best . “Oh bother, you know I try to assimilate to these American ways, but it just won’t do. It’s the tea and biscuits I think. My devotion to them simply makes it impossible for me to embrace that American twang.”

With the mention of tea, Mrs. Potts then got it into her mind that tea was the exact remedy they needed in this moment, and the entertainment of watching his Uncle’s housekeeper keep up with the most British of traditions kept Killian smiling. It was nice to feel the sense of home before heading out on something new and foreign tonight. His Mum had always enjoyed any excuse for tea, and as he sipped on the piping hot English grey that Mrs. Potts provided, Killian swore he could feel his mother’s own steadying presence. It was almost like she was with him, even though Mrs. Potts was asking the questions, and though he couldn’t rationally explain it, Killian felt like, wherever she was, his mother was just as excited for Killian as Mrs. Potts.

Though time still dragged more than a bit, the moment did finally come for Killian to get ready and depart. He did so with shaky hands but nothing like real apprehension. He was nervous, of course, because he wanted things to be just so to ensure that Emma had a good time, but the chance to see Emma again and to take her out so that they might see where things could go was a blessing in all ways. In fact, he was so desirous of the chance to do just that, that Killian actually walked the distance from his home to hers in a fraction of the time that he thought he would. He was early, but that earliness allowed for him to pause, and to look down a wooded country lane not far from Emma’s home. It was an ordinary looking place, nothing out of the common way, except for one thing. There, in the abandoned hedgerow were flowers. Wild roses, to be precise, and with a careful and mindful hand, Killian plucked one from the winding leaves. It was glorious, fully open for the season, fragrant, and lush, and Killian was thrilled at his luck.

With his small but precious gift in hand for Emma, Killian closed the distance between him and Emma’s home, eager to be reunited with her again. But where he expected to come knocking on her door, he was shocked and elated to find instead that Emma was already waiting for him at the gate. She didn’t see him at first, and that was probably for the best, for he was too stunned to speak, or move, or think of anything beyond her. Taking her in was a rush, and seeing her tonight, with her hair hanging in loose golden curls and her jean shorts and t-shirt traded in for a pretty pink sundress, made Killian feel like his heart might actually give out. What he felt for her was so gigantic and boundless. He was in awe of her, and halfway in love with her all ready. And then she turned to look at him, smiling shyly as she did, and he was gone for her.

This was the moment, right here, where he gave someone his heart for the first time. It was emblazoned with her name, beating just for Emma, and though many may call him crazy, Killian didn’t give a damn. It didn’t matter that they were young, or that this was only supposed to be his home for the summer. There could be a million things set against them, and for Killian none of them would matter. He’d conquer whatever he could to feel this way forever, and he knew having Emma in his world would be critical to that. In just one day Emma Swan had walked into his life and rewritten his story, and Killian for one had never been so happy about anything in his whole entire life.

“You’re early,” Emma teased, a smirk playing at her lips as he started walking towards her again.

“I could say the same about you, Swan.” Suddenly Emma looked uncomfortable, as if she wanted to explain why she was waiting for him outside but didn’t know how. This wasn’t the first time Emma had grown agitated about where she lived, and he wondered if she was embarrassed because this was the staff quarters of a larger estate, but while he wanted to ask what was the matter, Killian knew it would be best to wait for now. In the hopes of diffusing her apprehension, Killian produced the blossom he’d found for her, and drew her attention to the flower instead of whatever worried her. “For you, love.”

“Thank you. No one’s ever given me flowers before,” Emma whispered before bringing the rose up to smell its sweet scent. She appeared thrilled at his tiny gesture, and immediately Killian knew he’d bring her flowers every day. She deserved so much more than that, but this was a small thing he could accomplish that would hopefully bring her even a little bit of joy on a regular basis.

“I’m honored to be the first,” Killian replied, and though he’d meant the comment innocently, he watched as a blush crossed Emma’s cheeks. That show of shyness prompted Killian to wonder if there other first they could share together, and then his mind started to run away with him, moving in a far racier direction than either he or Emma was ready for. He had to curtail those thoughts, at least for now, and he did so by pivoting to the night ahead. “So, are you ready to head out? The fair waits for no man, at least that’s what they tell me.”

Emma laughed at the corny joke, and Killian was glad that they’d come so far from their first meeting even though they’d still spent precious little time together. He offered her his hand, and at first he was unsure if she’d accept it, but without any form of hesitation she slipped her hand in his. Having that connection seemed to flip the switch for time. Where before it had been moving ever so slowly, now it was flying by. It felt like one moment they were at Emma’s place and the next they were in the center of town and in the thick of the festivities. In that time they talked and laughed, and most people might think their discussion was on things of little importance, but Killian knew he’d remember every moment, especially the one where Emma first saw the fair in all its glory.

“Wow,” she uttered, her eyes flitting from sight to sight, tracking the lights and the people and the numerous games and rides.

“So? What do you think?”

“It’s even better than I always imagined,” Emma admitted with a grin and Killian felt his heart leap at the praise. “Where do we go first?”

“Ah, now that is a conundrum each fair-goer must face. On the one hand there’s food and all of it is fried. It’s delicious, obviously -,”

“But probably not great to eat before getting on some of those,” Emma said, motioning towards the rides that spun and shot into the air or twisted round and round.

“Precisely, but we can pace ourselves however you like. All I want to do is whatever makes you happy.”

Emma squeezed his hand a little tighter at his honest confession, and she continued to look around before deciding that a ride may be in order. He went and bought the tickets, and they tackled three of the most daring amusements at the fair. Initially, Killian worried that Emma might be scared, but she proved him so wrong. It turned out she loved the thrill and adrenaline, and her enjoyment made him desirous of the adventure as well. After that, they ate their fill of fair food, and then settled on a few games, nearly all of which Emma won. She was a natural at every single feat, and after seeing the light in her eyes that appeared when she found she was truly good at something, Killian wanted nothing more than for her to take the whole place. Some guys might have been turned off by a girl kicking their ass so decidedly, but not Killian. He was just as happy as Emma, for her excitement was infectious, as was her childlike joy every time she got her prize.

“I feel like I should have brought a bag or something,” Emma joked as they walked around with her many winnings, and then Killian produced a tote bag that he’d bought while she was busy at the water gun station. She appeared shocked, but it softened quickly into appreciation. “You’re really on top of this, aren’t you?”

“Have to be to keep up with you, love,” Killian replied and Emma laughed before heading to another tent to dominate yet again. This time though she was strategic, going for a bigger win so she could have a specific prize. The only problem was, she wouldn’t tell Killian what her objective was until it had already been won.

“For you,” Emma said, holding out her biggest catch of the day. It was a stuffed bear, but for some unbeknownst reason it was dressed in pirate garb. It had a hat and a sword, and even a little hook for a hand, and it was impossible not to look at the thing and smile, especially when Emma had thought to give it to him.

“Thank you, Emma, I’ll cherish it.”

A beat of silence passed between them, but there was no awkwardness. Instead, he and Emma looked at each other, sharing an understanding that this night was one that mattered. They both had enjoyed themselves tremendously, and though neither of them said the words aloud, Killian knew that this was just the start. Things between him and Emma were just right, and there was no denying that. It was like they’d been meant to find each other, and to come together in this summer where he’d needed someone more than ever. Emma seemed to understand that, and though he didn’t know the details, Killian gathered that she was searching for some kind of goodness just as much as he had been.

“I think there’s one more thing that needs doing,” Emma finally said, pulling her gaze from him and looking up to the tallest ride at the fair – the Ferris Wheel. They’d thought of going before, but the line was so long, but as the night went on more people went home. Little kids were all fast asleep by now, and there was only a little while left for the festivities this evening. As such, it was now or never to take one last ride together.

“As you wish,” Killian said, before taking her hand again leading them to the giant wheel. They got on it quickly, and soon enough they had a revolving view of everything.

“This is amazing,” Emma remarked as the ride slowly took its course, moving in a great big circle from high to low and back again.

“Is it the best part of the night?” he asked and Emma shook her head.

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s all been so wonderful. I couldn’t begin to choose a favorite part.”

Her words filled Killian with pride, and he couldn’t contain his smile when she spoke so highly of this date. Knowing that he’d created a happy memory for him and for Emma was an awesome feeling, but it didn’t compare to the ones that came next. In a moment, Emma’s eyes darkened even as they twinkled with the light of the wheel around them. She moved in closer, her hands coming up to his chest, and running down slightly, leaving sparks of spectacular sensation in their wake. Killian wondered if she could feel his heart pounding out an accelerated beat, but her face gave nothing away except that she wanted him. For his part, Killian had never wanted anything as much as Emma, but he waited, impossible as it was. He’d promised her tonight would be on her terms, and though it was torture for the few seconds that she paused in this moment, the sweet relief of her lips on his when she pulled him down for their first kiss was euphoric.

The kiss started soft and slow and more than a little unsure. Emma’s move had been bold, but her embrace was less so, at least for the first few moments. He wondered if this was her first kiss, but then the thought flew away as she arched into him more. They were testing the waters, seeing if a kiss could live up to the promise between them, and it did. Honestly, it delivered so much more, and the feeling in Killian’s heart that was sparked by the kiss only solidified to him that Emma and he belonged together.

“I lied,” Emma whispered when they broke apart for a moment. Killian tried to recall what they’d even been talking about, since he was so moved from that life-altering kiss, but then she clarified. “This was my favorite part. Hands down.”

“Agreed, love, but I think we can do better. Don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, stealing another kiss from her and chasing that same feeling of bliss all over again. Soon the two of them got lost in each other. There was a need that had long ago sparked between them, one they’d been dancing around all night. The chemistry they shared raged to an all-consuming degree, and Killian never wanted to stop. Her taste incited something primal in him. He never wanted to be without it, or without the feel of her pressed up against him. His fingers ran through her silky hair, then his hands came to hold her close, loving the way she felt beneath him and how open to this that she was. Emma was just as needy as he was, and ultimately the only thing that could break them apart was a loud yelling from the riding car below them.

“Hey buddy, are we gonna move at some point? This thing has been stuck for like ten minutes. I got places to be!” The man who asked was clearly annoyed, and it was immediately apparent his ride around the wheel wasn’t going anywhere near as perfectly as Killian and Emma’s.

“Oh my God,” Emma said, her eyes filled with laughter and residual lust from their shared kisses. “We’ve been stopped? I didn’t even notice.”

“It’s news to me too,” Killian admitted, but just as he was about to kiss her again, the ride came to life, and it appeared this was last call at the fair. They took one last loop around before they needed to get off, and by that time everything else was closing up. The festival of fun was winding down, and now there was nowhere to go but home.

It was tough to bid farewell to this night, the first of what Killian hoped would be many to come, but he refused to let himself dwell on bad emotions. He knew without a doubt that this was just the beginning, and so he chose to be grateful and fulfilled at all that he and Emma had shared. Tonight had been magical, and it was only made more so by the fireflies lighting up their whole journey home. These lightening bugs seemed to follow them, illuminating the way where the moon and stars could not, and each time one flashed its yellow light, Emma looked more and more entranced. This, it seemed, was another first for Emma, and even Killian had to admit that the way they lit up the shadowed streets was picturesque. Still, when the moment came to say goodbye to Emma, Killian couldn’t bring himself to say the words. It felt wrong to leave her, and Killian didn’t know how he’d ever manage it. As for saying goodbye, it felt too final, and the weight of that word weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“I had a great time tonight,” Emma said, the tone in her delicate voice telling him that she was being nothing but totally honest. “I don’t want to sound lame, but…”

Killian moved to cup her cheek when she cast her eyes away, seemingly embarrassed. He ran his thumb across her skin, feeling its gentle softness again, and noticing how it felt just as wonderful as the first time earlier tonight. God, the craziest part about all of this was that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she didn’t seem to notice it. Emma was blind to all the things that made her remarkable. She didn’t seem to understand that she was gorgeous or brilliant or extraordinary. She thought herself plain, when there was no one more wonderful the world over.

“Emma, whatever you meant to say, I want to hear it. I want to know everything you’re thinking, and I promise that ‘lame’ is the very last thing I’d ever call a thought of yours.”

Emma melted into his embrace a little more, releasing a pent-up breath and relaxing into him. “It’s just… well if I’m really honest, tonight was one of the best nights of my life.”

It soothed him to hear her be so candid, and it invigorated him in a way he’d never been before. He felt like he could fly – hell, forget flying this was so much better! Having Emma care so much for him and open herself to what was growing between them was miraculous. He knew this was hard for her, and though again she’d shied away from speaking of anything too deep tonight, the little things she gave away had told Killian that normally Emma was cautious. Like him, she’d built up walls around herself, but her trust in the feelings between them had inspired her to try. She was taking a risk with him, and no matter what it took, Killian silently swore that he’d make that risk worth it for her, no matter what it took.

Instinctively, he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her, and feeling the slender lines of her body mold against his. Having her close was of great comfort, but then she nestled in even closer and his heart lifted. She fit so perfectly with him, and when she was here, in his arms, it felt like a missing piece of who he was had returned. It might not be the part he lost when his mother passed, but it was another similarly important piece, one he’d never really had before. People might call him crazy, but he couldn’t help thinking, as he looked into Emma’s emerald eyes, that he was staring into the face of his future. He could see a whole life with Emma. Every milestone they were yet to face, he found he wanted to embark on with Emma at his side, and though he didn’t know how that could be yet, given that they lived a world apart most of the time, he knew he’d find a way.

“Mine too. I don’t want to rush you, love, but I feel it’s only right to tell you that I’m in this. I’m all in, Emma. It’s you and me, as long as you’ll have me.”

“So it’s not just a one-time thing?” Emma asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly with the last of her fear.

“No, love. It’s as far from a one-time thing as it can get. I want tomorrow and the next day. I want next week and next month. I want the whole summer and then thereafter. I want it all, and I know it’s ridiculously fast, but sometimes when you know, you know, and -,”

Whatever other words he had flew away the moment Emma pulled him down to kiss. They came together, just as hungry for each other as they were before, if not more, but now there was so much promise fused in with the embrace. In this kiss, Emma was telling him that she was on board with all his thinking. Even if he was crazy, it seemed she was just the same, and whatever this was, they were in it together.

They stayed that way, tied together with heat and lust and the beginnings of what he had to see as love. This was too strong an emotion to be anything else, and when they broke apart, both trying to catch their breath, he could tell from Emma’s expression that she felt it too. He wouldn’t speak the words tonight, not when they’d already been moving so quickly, but Killian knew it was just a matter of time before he said them. And as Emma took her leave, heading back through the wrought iron gate, after promising to see him tomorrow, he felt a growing sense of certainty that she was the one. Now all he had to do was show her that, and make a plan to keep them together, no matter what may come.

Post-Note: So there we have it! I can’t wait to see what you guys thought of the chapter and Killian and Emma’s first date. Hopefully you enjoyed it, and if you did then I have good news for you: the next chapter is another date also from Killian’s view, but this time it’s in the present where we started the story. I think a lot more will be answered then, but there’s still a long way to go in unraveling the past and building their future. Anyway, thanks so much to all of you for reading and for your continued support. Hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs fic #cs ff #cs au #cs fluff #cs smut #cs first date #emma swan #killian jones #ouat au #the same soul #cs hs au #cs modern au #the same soul 3 #the same soul au #captain swan fluff

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roseate7 · 6 years ago

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(my no good utterly pretentious reaction to Geno’s interview in Russian wherein he expresses himself in a way we non-Russian-speaking fans rarely get to see and I go into an absolute asjafjsaghjas)

I just think about how lonely Geno has been in with such a hostile spotlight so young, the kind of thing I haven’t seen since the first defectors. Growing and maturing and then attending a draft alongside another Russian phenom bred to be lauded along his journey from league to league, by comparison Geno’s own hype and success ended up on a journey that paralleled those first Russian pioneers to NHL hockey more than any other player of his generation. In particular, a stark almost flip-opposite to the one his fellow draft alumnus experienced.

The NHL that Geno had begun to dream about joining in his teens had developed a different relationship to Russian players since his very early childhood. It was a stage set almost perfectly for the star rising elsewhere who would one day become The Russian Superstar in commercial terms and popularity that not even the Russian greats before him had managed to be. What’s relevant in particular is that Ove is famously known as an un-Russian type player, and was made so more or less by design. His destiny was patently to go out and “conquer” (to use his and his press’ patter) the NHL. His playing style is much more that of a North American power forward and the C*pitals’ hierarchy that places his scoring chances as top priority is the perfect environment for his style to flourish. He is the THE superstar, even having been mentored by Fedorov during his tenure with Washington. All and sundry around Ove have been driven toward his accomplishments. (Fed himself called Ove’s style not at all typical for a Russian. Ove’s falling out with his Russian coach at Sochi in some part to this.) Btw I know tumblr tends to be hyper sensitive and reactionary about this kind of thing, so just a reminder that these are facts that are *constantly* corroborated every year by every sports pundit and player, including respected colleagues and friends of Ove’s. The overwhelming majority of C*ps fans, and the entirety of the franchise, are perfectly happy with it! And thanks to getting a Cup into the bargain, very proud to continue it. To paraphrase him, if it never breaks then don’t “fix” it!

I bring it up with regards to How Very Russian Indeed Geno is by contrast, and now especially amid the many Ov*chkin-ized Russian NHLers. It marks a turning point in how Russian players in the NHL are presented and interact.

Geno in no small way represents the Old Gods. He’s got far more in common with Alexander Nevsky than Alexander Ov*chkin, if I can be allowed to be so pretentious and very historically loose. His choice to keep the A on another C’s team rather than seek out his own personal superstardom elsewhere - which would absolutely have been the parallel to Ove’s, as their close draft class status has proven repeatedly through the years - is Russian to the core. The desire to reflect on his own position in a club in terms of broader, collective success is - albeit to a North American anyway! - achingly Russian.

The many old world fables his story resonates with come right out of Russian stories: rags-to-riches; daring defection from his home country; from “jewel in the crown” of home to persecution as a perceived traitor; dramatic arrival to his new foreign city, including the first meeting with the young phenom he had followed since their childhood; the cruel and abrupt challenge of faith in himself at his first appearance on NHL ice; from cultural and linguistic isolation to half of a dual leadership with one of hockey’s greatest players on a three-time Cup winning team. It’s all there in fascinating, ever-revealing detail.

The Russian Five were my personal fascination when I was a teen early in my hockey fan days and the mention of them in this interview reminds me of how, in just one player, I have seen that same Old Russian magic revive again. The fierce loyalty to the new guard he belongs to but that unmistakable, slightly haunted aura of traveling with his heritage in everything he does is a lot more of what I was used to seeing in Russian NHLers than the more casual, comfortable relationships Russian players have with North American media and fans nowadays. I know we all have to be cautious about the Russian Bear analogies, especially as they relate to the media- and opposition-feeding frenzy that seeks to vilify him as having some sort of pathological level of rage and lack of control. Especially when spoken at the same time as North American players with blatant anger issues are coddled into fantasies of ‘simply doing their job’ good guys or flat out victims themselves. Geno has pride and a hockey temper, but it only looks out of proportion to the average pride and pugilism of any other player targeted for aggression, by those who don’t feel that he’s presenting himself in a way that is palatable to them. Most modern Russian NHLers return home and relax into very different personalities than the big smiles, laugh-along, don’t-talk-about-anything-serious versions of themselves that keep NW fans and media happy. Even if they find themselves in the box far more often or just as much as Geno, if the public already considers them a friend then much is forgiven. No armchair psychology of “anger issues” needed, no matter how bad the high stick or how many PIM. (and I won’t even get started on who ends up staying on referees radars more often than others, because it absolutely happens but most folks stay in denial unless it serves their own purpose)

As for the nature of his pride, Geno himself says that staying on a team he believes in is worth more than his own C. It’s worth taking a cut in money to help cap space. It’s worth being on the second line, and using his intelligence and vision to work with who he’s given to form his own leadership. And that leadership becoming seen by all as an equal and vital part of the captaincy - no “alternate”. With any other captaincy than Sid’s, Geno would absolutely have left to find his own rightful dominion. But for the grace of Sid being born and made with “hockey is a team-first and team-only effort” as his defining characteristic, Pittsburgh would have lost 71 and seen him become number one elsewhere… and very likely winning his own Cups. Geno’s loyalty to the city and franchise does not at all end or limit itself to Sid, but it absolutely begins with him. One superstar’s personality kept the other on his team, and that other’s personality is why he stayed on the other’s.

The Russian Five felt like “fish put back in the water” when put together. Geno has used his own tenacity, bravery and ingenuity as a generational superstar to find a swift current with that most Canadian of archetypes, Sidney Crosby. The combined effort is perfectly fluid, perfectly aligned, with not even a faint whisper of friction or disturbance in thirteen years. There have been and will continue to be many dynamic duos in hockey: there’s a reason why this one is called unique. They’re both natural born captains and each chasing each other within a delicate margin along the record books. They absolutely work well together on the ice, but genuinely operate best when leading their own lines. Maybe psychologically there’s an argument about how much they lean on each other, but I think it’s much more to their credit to point out that Geno found himself in familiar waters with a fellow leader who shares exactly the same principles as him. Side by side, and more than once proving capable of taking the team on their own back when one is out injured.

It’s a big part of why a major club like Pittsburgh has made the often baffling decisions throughout these thirteen years to take on hard-luck cases or players nearing the back end of their careers. A team whose leadership is founded and successful on load-sharing and listening is the perfect environment for players who still have the fight and/or the skill but who have lost their way. Or perhaps aged out of their old club. All you have to do is your best and the Pens will try to find you. But if you want to be the superstar or leap ahead of the guys who’ve done more time, you won’t find any sympathy in Crosby and Malkin.

And it’s just so poetic that Geno’s story, told by himself so beautifully by himself in this interview, is one of heart and good faith overcoming adversity after adversity. And that he did it by making wise decisions for himself, while holding himself unnervingly well in response to his own feelings of guilt and responsibility. And how his success in Pittsburgh has been to make the smart decision about staying with a club because of his faith in it. And that his personal successes and pride are the result of endurance and patience rather than a succession of fireworks, or even getting the credit he deserves.

Sid absolutely represents the ‘anything is possible through hard work’ and the more nurturing side of the Pens’ leadership. But Geno is the steely resolve and quiet rumble leading to powerful force that bears aloft even unlikely rosters to their absolute best.

(asterisks and spelling changes used because I don’t know how tumblr searches tags anymore and I’m being careful - if you still somehow found this and get huffy about what I said wrt Ove then swallow it down and move along. Nothing I said is untrue or considered an insult even by Caps hockey pundits. It’s all factual and highly relevant in terms of how NHL hockey has changed for Russian players. Don’t blame me for watching hockey for decades and stating what absolutely everyone else does, including the Caps coaching and management! Their style is not under my control lol.)

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relenafanel · 6 years ago

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Professional 3rd Wheel drabble for deliveryisdelayed

For @deliveryisdelayed as one of the Patreon rewards

Bucky wasn’t the first person in the world to think up the idea of being a professional 3rd wheel. He probably wasn’t even the first one in Brooklyn. He WAS the first to put together an App and a team of volunteers that soon became a team of professional hires. There wasn’t a ton of money in it, but then it wasn’t Bucky’s primary job.

You had to get creative when your bedroom in a shared apartment cost $1200 a month.

Carol was one of Bucky’s long-standing customers. She was notoriously picky and completely unable to let someone down easy. She was his favorite, and it wasn’t because she went on an average of 3 dates a month that usually ended with her enjoying her meal alone, but that certainly helped. Bucky appreciated a good casual alone-date.

So he wasn’t surprised when the automatic text came through on his phone for him to bail her out. He took off his gloves and left them in the seat of his car, locking the door behind him before wandering into the café.

“Oh Carol,” Bucky started to say, sparing a glace for her date sitting opposite her. Then he did a double-take. “Steve!” he blurted out in shock. “You’re on a date?”

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK.

Steve. On a date.

With Carol?

Bucky was interrupting Steve on a date. With Carol.

Oh no.

Steve was Bucky’s absolutely gorgeous boy-next-door fantasy who had been in a relationship since the first moment Bucky had met him. He’d met Peggy too, she was lovely. If anything, she was too good for Steve and that was saying something. He also knew that if Steve was on a date that their relationship was over and probably had been for a while.

Steve looked up at him and winced and then shrugged. “Unsuccessfully, it seems,” he pushed back from the table with an earnest kind of grace for being the kind of date that had Bucky called in. “I’ll pay the bill. Excuse me.”

Bucky turned towards Carol with wide eyes. “That was Steve Rogers,” he hissed. “You were on a date with Steve Rogers and you called me in? He’s single like once a decade.”

“He just got out of a long-term relationship. That’s baggage I don’t want.”

Bucky almost made a frustrated sound of disbelief. Everyone had baggage! If Bucky could handle Steve’s baggage – and Bucky was notoriously fickle, it was where the whole idea for his third wheel service had come from – then anyone could!

“Fine,” Bucky said. “Are you ok? Do you want company?” he asked because that was part of his job. It was what set him apart from the guys on Craigslist who did this for a lot less. Bucky had cultivated a reputation for being a quasi-bodyguard in addition to a date destroyer. Putting his muscles to good use and all.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “I’ve got this whole burger to finish.”

“Good,” he said and moved to intercept Steve.

x.x.x.

“I just wanted a starter date,” Steve explained, sitting on a cold metal bench. Bucky had winced when he sat next to him, and resigned himself to the fact he’d left his gloves in his car. “Someone who didn’t know me and who didn’t matter. That sounds cold. I don’t mean it cold. A fresh start. I wanted a fresh start.”

“Fresh starts are hard,” Bucky pointed out to him. “The two of you get to know each other based on surface level stuff.” He put his hands in his pocket to resist from reaching out to touch Steve, but then ended up putting his hand on Steve’s back anyway. “At least don’t mention Peggy next time.”

“I don’t think there will be a next time,” Steve said, and his head was hanging low, almost between his knees.

“Steve,” Bucky said.

“It was devastating looking up and seeing you there, and know what you were doing. The harbinger of first date doom.”

“I’ll put that on my business card,” Bucky responded, glib but internally wincing.

“I thought it was going ok,” he said, almost completely muffled by his hands.

“Sometimes it’s not you,” Bucky pointed out, and tried not to sound too much like he was being kind because he knew Steve wouldn't take it well if he thought he was being pitied or coddled. “I’d date you. I want to, if you’d like?” He felt like his heart was pounding a mile a minute.

Steve looked up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed but he wasn’t crying. “So you can teach me what I’m doing wrong?” he asked, a bitter tinge to his tone. “I probably need something like that, but I’m going to have to turn you down.”

Bucky was speechless for a moment. “Fuck off with that. No! Are you joking? I wanted to ask you out the first time we met.”

“Oh.” Steve looked surprised.

“Part of me always hoped you’d be single and I’d have a chance to at least ask, but Peggy’s lovely and the two of you seemed perfect together. I thought you’d eventually get married.”

This made Steve wince more than seeing Bucky interrupt his date had.

“Oh,” Bucky winced back. “I didn’t realize.”

“She never really wanted to. It wasn’t just one thing or one fight,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t just that I wanted to get married and she didn’t. It was… the things we couldn’t find a mutual compromise that made both of us happy started to overshadow the things that we could.”

Bucky swallowed heavily. “How long has it been?”

“Three months.”

“Maybe you need more time.”

“It’s so quiet in the apartment. I’ve tried to go out with friends, but it feels like it’s worse when I have to go home to an empty room, and,” he inhaled. “You’re right, of course you’re right. I don’t know how to be alone.”

Bucky picked his words carefully. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned through my job it’s that some people never learn how to be alone. That’s ok for them, but I think that you don’t want to jump back in on a long term relationship with the first person you hit it off with on a surface level. I don’t mean to put words in your mouth, but you deserve more than that.”

Steve frowned at him.

Yeah, Bucky had definitely gone too far.

And his frown deepened in thought.

“You’re right, of course,” Steve admitted. “It’s too soon and I need to adjust first. Thanks for talking me down.”

“Do you want a ride home, or…?”

“No, it’s a nice evening. I’ll walk,” his lip quirked. “I’m not one of your clients, you don't need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

Shit. And Bucky had missed his window to date Steve Rogers again. Fucking hell.

He didn’t just miss his window. He’d closed it himself.

x.x.x.

Bucky’s main fear seeing Steve’s name flash on his caller ID was that Steve was looking to hire him for his next adventure in dating 101. “Hello?” he said, because listening to a voicemail he’d then have to make a return call for was worse than just picking up in the first place. It had been 4 months since Bucky disastrously asking Steve out, so for all Bucky knew he was being invited to a wedding.

“It didn’t seem right to do this over text.”

“Are you getting married?” he asked.

“No,” Steve emphasized, insulted by the question. “I took your advice. I feel less like I have to move on to fill a gaping hole in my chest and more like I want to move on to find someone important. I wanted to thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Yep. He was a stupid idiot.

“Are you free this Friday?”

“I… what?”

“You asked me out and then you lectured me into giving myself time to heal.”

“You don’t owe me a date!” Bucky responded. This was worse. This was 100% worse.

“I don’t owe you shit,” Steve said back in just as hot of a tone. “I wanted to say yes then, and I want to say yes now. So are you free this Friday?”

Bucky actually already had a date for Friday night, but it wasn’t much of a choice. “Give me five minutes. I’ll have to call you back.”

x.x.x.

Dating Steve was exactly what Bucky hoped it would be. His chest felt too small to contain his heart, a steady reminder that he was nervous. When Steve had moved into the rooms below his, Bucky had thought ‘this is the man’ and then he’d met Peggy. It was the lamest tragedy of his life considering that he’d partially pined after the man for years. He hadn’t actively pursued a crush, but there’d been a niggling awareness every time they spoke that Bucky could and would enjoy a serious relationship with the man.

Steve looked just as nervous as Bucky felt. “I’ve been told I’m not great at this.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, at least I can’t show up to interrupt this one.”

The corner of Steve’s mouth tilted up. “I remember the time you called me from the bathroom to come fake an emergency with your pet snake.”

“And then you told me it ate my cat,” Bucky pointed out, held Steve’s gaze, and burst out laughing. “It was both awful and brilliant. You’re the shittiest fake pet sitter ever.”

Bucky moved carefully, putting his hand over Steve’s on the table. It was a lame move, but it still felt like something illicit. Skin to skin contact. Oh wow.

They smiled at each other, tentative and new and uncertain.

Bucky watched as his phone lit up with a phone call. Steve watched too, his fingers spasming under Bucky’s like he was controlling himself from jerking away. “I promise I wouldn’t," Bucky swore.

“I know,” Steve said it with confidence, but there was something in his expression as Bucky declined the call.

“Not because I’m worried about you knowing my tricks. I’d just tell you straight.”

His phone lit up again with Becca calling back.

“Sorry,” he said to Steve. “What!” Bucky barked. He was 100% sure he’d told her to cancel the plan for her to interrupt him once his date changed to Steve. He knew he did because she’d looked at him wide-eyed and went ‘does that mean Peggy is single?’ and when he pointed out that she’d never shown interest in women before she’d enunciated ‘PEGGY CARTER’.

“I’m at the hospital,” she told him. “Broke my ankle.”

“I’m on a date!” he reminded her. “With Steve!”

“Riiiight,” she said. “Oh god, that was tonight. Right. Sorry.”

“Sorry,” Bucky repeated to Steve once he hung up and debated whether he’d find Becca’s sapphic awakening over Peggy funny.

Then Becca texted him.

Becca: I really am at the hospital tho

Becca: Maybe after your date the two of you could come get me?

Becca: I’ll probably need someone with Steve’s muscles to carry me up the 4 flights of stairs to my apartment.

Becca: But the cast isn’t even on yet, you have time.

Becca: Probably not if you were thinking of fucking. Come get me first then.

Bucky barely resisted the urge to drop his head to the table.

x.x.x.

Steve was definitely a keeper since he did carry Becca up four flights of stairs without dropping her. That was pretty heroic considering she kept squirming to look at Bucky behind Steve’s back while telling Steve about the embarrassing time Bucky had tried to use a can of Red Bull as a sex toy, and how no one had carried him up the stairs afterwards. She’d had to help him an inch at a time.

“I’m pretty much going to murder her,” Bucky told Steve, after he’d dumped Becca’s crutches and pain meds next to her on the bed.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “That was awfully embarrassing for you. I remember that limp.”

Bucky flushed.

“But then,” Steve mused. “It’s probably a good thing you don’t get daunted by a challenge.”

What the fuck did that even mean? “Are you implying what I think you are?” he asked.

“Guess you’ll find out sometime.” and then he smirked.

#fanfiction: drabble #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #the nyc patreon #is closed now so you get the fics #deliveryisdelayed

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howlnikiforov · 6 years ago

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Black Swan

Chapter Six: Sweet Love

Pairing: Hyungwon x Reader

Word Count: 1847

Summary: Sequel to Trespass; Sometimes, some people can’t handle the idea of another’s happiness. Sometimes those people are those who were once close to you

“Lovely girl Please look at me Don’t fly past me like the soft spring wind I wanna stay with you and love you You’re a flower, I’m softly melting at your scent Oh my gosh what do I do? I just like you My hardened heart is blossoming If only your footsteps will come to me now That’s how our spring will start My soft love Please go out with me to that cafe I can’t leave you alone Because it feels like you’ll blow away with the wind, girl What other words are needed? I’m kind of obsessed with you I can say words that make you cringe (really?) Hey, come to me now”

You swayed side to side in Hyungwon’s arms, spinning around the dimly lit room as he sang quietly. It was just the two of you in the house tonight, so you were spending it quietly, together. Your head rested on his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart and rumbling of his chest. It was perfect.

Candles were placed around the perimeter of the living room, casting a soft glow. Hyungwon’s angelic voice was only loud enough for you to hear; it didn’t echo off the walls like usual. It was peaceful.

The two of your built a bubble for yourselves; a safe place for you. It was just what you needed. There’s been too much stress with YG attacking again, your brother missing, Daniel showing up in strange places, your father trying to interfere with your life. It was too much. You needed a break, so you were taking one.

Being in his arms was the best feeling in the world. Really, nothing could compare. And the best sound in the world? That was his voice. Listening to him talk, scream, sing, could make you cry because he was so beautiful. A day never went by where you didn’t thank the universe for blessing you with him.

“Y/n,” Hyungwon whispered after he ended his song, “have you thought about having kids?”

You stopped your movements, looking up at him. “I’ve had a couple thoughts about it, but I never felt inclined to think deeply about it.” You answered. “Why? What’s brought this on?” “I don’t know,” He sighed, “it’s just-” He stopped.

“It’s just what, love?” You questioned, pushing hair off his forehead, “Tell me.”

“It’s just, I keep seeing all these ads and shit about newborns, and everyone seems to be talking about starting their own family.” He revealed, “And I don’t know. I thought it might have been a sign but...a family is too dangerous for us.”

“You’re right. It is too dangerous for us.” You carded your fingers through his hair, “I think that’s why I haven’t thought much about it. Do you want to start a family, Hyungwon?”

“Yes? No? Maybe? I don’t know.” He closed his eyes, “I don’t think now would be the time to do it. Not with Jinho missing and your father and Daniel on our asses. But maybe someday? If things ever settle down enough. Would you...would you be okay with that?”

“I think I might be okay with it later down the line after we talk more about it.” You replied, your voice barely loud enough to reach your own ears. “We’d definitely have to wait. There’s no way I’d bring a child into this world only to endanger it.”

He opened his eyes and looked at you. “No. No, no. Definitely not now. Later though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agreed, “I know how much you want to have a family. I’ll happily share that dream with you.”

His grin lit up the room, his eyes sparkling. “Thank you Y/n. Thank you.” He pressed his lips against yours.

You laughed, putting your hands on his cheeks. You pulled away from him, “We were dancing, yes?”

“Yes. Yes we were, My Love.” He said, swiftly picking you up and twirling you around. You giggled, holding onto his shoulders tightly. When he set you down, he began guiding you around the room again.

“Hyungwon?” You stared up at him.

“Yes, My Love?” He questioned.

“I love you.” You exclaimed.

“I love you too.” He replied, kissing your forehead. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a soulmate like you.”

“You were you,” You said simply, “because you were yourself, you got me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“Can I take you to bed?” He questioned, “Not to like, make love or anything. We’ve been dancing for quite some time and I’m tired.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling at his choice of words. “Yes, you can take me to bed.” You allowed.

He swept you up in his arms, holding you bridal style. “Well then, My Dearest, let us go to sleep and enjoy the second best thing in the world.”

“The second best?” You quirked an eyebrow, wrapping your arms around his neck, “What’s the first?” “You.” He said cheerfully, beginning to walk.

“That’s so swe-wait. We have to put out the candles.” You realized, staring at him wide eyed.

“Oh. That’s a thing.” He said blankly, setting you down. He went about the room and blew out the candles. You waited with your arms crossed over your chest, smiling fondly as you watched him eagerly take care of each candle. He came back over and picked you up again, now taking you to your room. He was happy. He was relaxed. That’s what mattered.

Upon arriving to your shared room, he laid you down on the bed, joining you seconds later. You wrapped yourselves around each other, holding one another like you usually did. You shared your goodnights and your final kiss for the day before succumbing to sleep.

Waking up was a very unpleasant experience. The worst thing anyone could do is wake you up with a blaring sound, and that’s exactly what whoever was calling you was doing. You groaned as you forced yourself up, carefully untangling yourself from Hyungwon’s grasp.

“Hello?” You droned out, feeling the start of a headache.

“Y/n? It’s your dad.” You pulled the phone away from your ear and realized the phone in your hands was one you rarely used. You just left it to sit on your nightstand and slowly drain of battery.

“What do you want?” You asked exasperatedly. You really were not in the mood to deal with his shit right now.

“I want to meet up.” He replied.

“Yeah well, too bad because I do not want to meet up.” You bit back. Hyungwon stirred beside you, causing you to cringe. You were being too loud. Your precious love needed his sleep, so you quieted down a bit.

“Y/n, you’re my daughter. I just want to see you.” He sounded like he was trying to guilt trip you. You could’ve laughed.

“Why? Last time you wanted to see me, you thrust Daniel into my life.” You questioned, curious to know what his answer would be.

“I didn’t thrust Daniel into your life. I just wanted to show you that H.One is not the only option for you.” He said

“Dad, H.One is the only option for me. He’s the one I love. I can’t love anyone else. Don’t you understand that? You know how soulmates work. You’ve been with mom for decades. Why can’t you understand I’m happy with him? We’re bonded on the third tier; we can’t be separated.”

“Y/n, it’s not a matter of how bonded you are; it’s a matter of your safety. You’re not safe being with someone in the mafia, my precious daughter. You’ve been kidnapped! You could die in the blink of an eye because-” You didn’t get to hear the rest of his sentence because your phone died. You shrugged and tossed it onto the floor, settling back in beside Hyungwon.

He looked so calm while he slept. His mahogany colored hair was a disaster, but it was cute. Somehow he worked the bedhead. You tried to fix it a little bit without waking him up, but when he shifted you decided to leave it be. It wasn’t worth waking him.

You’ve been working with Kihyun to help take some of this stress off him. He’s been thinking a lot, and those thoughts haven’t always been good ones. Lately, many things have been reminding him of his parents. You were worried.

This shit with Daniel and your father wasn’t helping either. You honestly had no clue what the hell they were on, especially Daniel. You didn’t know what he was trying to do with you, and that scared you. Did he really think he could come in and wreck your relationship? Your bond with Hyungwon was immensely durable. Death itself wouldn’t be able to break it.

He wasn’t even good looking. If you’re going to try and home wreck, you should at least put some effort into hygiene. Yet here this guy was, constantly looking like he just got out of bed. Really, who did he think he was?

And, was he really insinuating that Hyungwon was some kind of monster you needed protection from? Hyungwon was the last person you needed to be kept from. He was the first one to protect you. He’d go to any length to make sure you were safe; especially since he’s already lost you once.

You really couldn’t fathom why your father thought so harshly of Hyungwon. The mafia thing could be totally overlooked. If you didn’t already know he had a dark side, you’d never be able to guess it existed in the first place. Hyungwon was soft, fluffy, fun, loving, and everything you’d always imagined him to be. Sure there was a time when you had a deep disdain for him, but now, now you could see through the man you thought you knew back then.

You sighed, deciding to worry about this all at another time. You had other things to think about. Things like what started a family would entail. Things would definitely have to change. You wouldn’t have to leave the mafia, but the inner workings would need an upgrade.

You’d be indisposed for awhile. No doubt Hyungwon wouldn’t let you do anything remotely dangerous once you were pregnant. He’d coddle you until you’d threaten to cut off one of his limbs. Even then he wouldn’t stop nurturing you.

He’d be a great father. He was already such a spectacular husband. You’ve seen him interact with kids before, and each time it warmed your heart. He was so good with them, you weren’t worried about him. You were worried about yourself. For a good majority of your life you hated children. They were annoying, and all they did was cry and complain. You were worried you wouldn’t be a good mother because you have a history of being less than patient with children. Still, before you could wake Hyungwon with your worry, you stopped thinking about it and tried to go back to sleep. Too bad Kihyun had to burst into the room.

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blackberrywidow · 6 years ago

Text

His Legacy [IV]

Summary: Tony Stark had never wanted to be a father– had never wanted to risk passing on the Stark’s legacy of absentee fathers and childhood trauma. But looking at his son now, swaddled tightly in his arms, he knew that he was always meant to be his father. Peter was the best thing to ever happen to him, and his would be the only legacy that mattered. (AU in which Tony is Peter’s biological father)

Warnings: Language, angst, death mention.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Okay, so a significant time jump here to get things moving. Hope everyone is prepared for some serious angst.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

---

“Are you excited, Pete?” Tony asked, turning to look at his son, who was strapped into his booster seat and sipping on a juice box.

“No,” he answered sullenly, blowing air back into the box just to smash it down. Tony had to suppress a smile, knowing Mary wouldn’t approve of him encouraging his “bad behavior.”

“Give me the juice box, Peter,” Mary chastised, turning around from where she sat in the front seat to grab the juice box from him. She turned to Tony with an exasperated look. “He’s been like this all morning. He doesn’t want to go.”

“I just want to spend the day with you or Daddy!” Peter responded, crossing his little arms and pouting. “I don’ wanna go to preschool.”

“Come on, kid,” Tony encouraged. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll get to make friends and learn cool stuff. And if you learn enough, maybe you’ll even be able to work with me some day.”

“Really?!” Peter yelled and Mary turned back to give Tony a reproachful look. “That would be so cool.”

“His only four, Tony,” Mary reminded him. “He’s way too young to be putting that kind of pressure on him.”

“I’m not putting pressure on the kid,” Tony defended as Peter chattered on about how cool school would be and how he wanted to be like his dad. Tony’s heart warmed at the thought, knowing he didn’t deserve his son or his hero-worship, but grateful all the same. “I’m just encouraging him to go to school. He’ll forget about it by tomorrow.”

“No I won’t,” Peter cut in, taking a break to correct him before launching back into telling Happy about how he was going to grow up and be cool like his dad. Happy responded in typical Happy fashion, which meant not at all, but Tony knew he had a soft spot for the kid a mile-wide, though he tried not to show it.

A minute later and they were pulling up to the school. Peter had been full of energy and ready to tackle his first day after Tony’s pep talk, at least until Tony helped him out of the car and he face the school for the first time.

His small hand gripped Tony’s tighter, and he reached out for Mary’s as well once she rounded the car. Mary smiled down at him before taking his hand and walking forward, guiding both Tony and Peter to the front door.

“Alright Peter,” Mary said, crouching down and adjusting Peter’s shirt collar the way she always did when she was nervous. “You’re going to have a great day, okay? It’s just for a few hours, and then I’ll be here to pick you up at noon. Then we’ll do something fun to celebrate your first day. How does that sound?”

“Daddy too?” Peter questioned with wide eyes.

Mary glanced up at Tony worriedly before returning her gaze to her son. “I think your dad has a meeting today—”

“But I’ll reschedule,” Tony reassured, crouching down to give Peter a quick high-five and a smile. “I wouldn’t miss it, kid.”

With that, Peter smiled wide and gave his mother one last hug before bounding off into the school.

“Well, that didn’t take much,” Tony commented.

Mary rolled her eyes and turned to make her way back to where Happy was waiting with the car, Tony following after her. “He looks up to you, Tony. That’s all it ever takes.”

“I know,” Tony acknowledged with a chuckle. “I’m afraid of the day when I’m not his hero anymore.”

He said it jokingly, unthinkingly revealing a real fear he had. One he didn’t like to consider. How would Peter feel about his father in ten years, when the glamour of having a “cool dad” wore off and he realize he was just a man who had a past full of skeletons and bad memories?

“Then don’t ever stop being his hero,” Mary said easily, climbing into the back seat. Tony doubted that it would be that easy, but it was nice to hope.

“Boss, I can dri—” Happy tried to offer, but Tony was quick to cut him off. He only ever rode as a passenger when Peter was in the car, which both Mary and Happy knew.

“Sorry, Hap, but you get shot gun.”

Happy grumbled to himself, but went to the passenger side as Tony slid into the driver’s seat. “So, you heading to work Mary?” he asked, pulling out of the line of cars.

“Oh no,” Mary said, her eyes snapping up to Tony’s in the rearview mirror. “You can drop me back off at home. I took the day off for this. Besides, I still have to sort through some of my mom’s things with Ben. He said he’d come over later to help.”

Tony nodded, turning right to head back towards the Parkers’ residence, and he chuckled. “It’s been almost three years, Mary. You guys still haven’t finished going all of her suff?”

Mary rolled her eyes, but seemed annoyed as she said. “Ben likes to hold onto things, so it’s like pulling teeth to get him to get rid of anything. She’s been gone for nearly three years and he still wants to cry every time he looks at a teapot that she used when we were kids.”

Tony shrugged, eyes focused on the road as he switched lanes a little too closely, making Happy grip the oh-shit-handle even tighter and close his eyes. “Well, it’s understandable. Sentiment is hard to let go of some times.”

Mary raised a brow, mouth quirking up in a smirk. “I didn’t peg you for the sentimental sort, Tony Stark.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Tony lied, thinking about the boxes full of his mom’s old things from over a decade ago that he had in storage. “But Ben is, so go easy on him, okay?”

“I’ll try my best. But speaking of Ben, he wanted me to make sure that you were really okay with watching Peter for me while I’m gone. He said he and May would be more than happy to.”

“He’s my son too, Mary,” Tony reminded her, rolling his eyes as he pulled up in front of her house. “I can handle it.”

---

“Don’t forget to make sure he has his blankie—he can’t sleep without it—and he needs to take his multivitamin every day.” Mary was straightening Peter’s collar, fretting over him in Tony’s doorway as he watched on in exasperation.

“I know, Mary. It’s not like he’s never stayed the night with me.” Tony rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fact that he was actually offended by her coddling.

Mary straightened, looking at Tony with softer eyes. “I know, Tony. It’s just that this will be the longest I’ll go without seeing him, and I… I mean, it’s a whole week Tony. I know you’ll be okay, I just worry. I’m a mom,” she said with a forced laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s what I do.”

“I get it,” Tony said, because he did. It was part of you that changed when you had kids—the constant worry and need to be close to them. To make sure they were all right. It was something he was well aware of after four years. “But he’ll be fine. It’s just a week. I’ll keep him safe and happy until you get back. Isn’t that right Pete?” Tony reassured her, swooping down to pick up his giggling son.

“Yeah, Dad. We’re gonna have lots of fun!” Peter chortled as Tony tickled his sides.

Mary smiled, stepping back and looking resigned. “I know, sweetie. Well, I’m off then. Wish me luck!”

“Good luck!” Peter cheered, giving his mom a big wave and wide smile.

“Knock ‘em dead, Mary,” Tony encouraged.

Mary rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my best. You know how they can be though—change is bad. But hopefully they’ll see the merit in what we’re doing.”

Tony nodded, though he didn’t really understand all of Mary’s issue. In Tony’s line of work, the more change the better. But weapons development was a far different occupation than Mary’s… which Tony wasn’t exactly sure on anyway. It was understood that their work lives weren’t something they talked about, considering Mary’s aversion to Tony’s “Merchant of Death” lifestyle.

“Well, I’m sure everything will go fine. And I’ll have Petey here waiting for you when it does.”

Mary forced a tight-lipped smile and nodded. She leaned forward to give her son one last kiss on the cheek before heading back out to the car that was waiting to take her to the airport.

---

It was seven hours later, and Peter had just gone to bed for the night and Tony was on his way to his lab to do some late-night tinkering when he got the call.

“Rhodey.” Tony smiled as he picked up the call, pushing open the door to his lab. “It’s almost 9. Way past your bedtime. What—?”

“You need to turn on your TV, Tony. Channel 9.” Rhodey’s voice was heavy and stern, and it immediately put Tony on edge. Enough so that he immediately did as he said, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV that was set up in the corner of the lab.

The first thing he saw was an aerial shot of a smoldering plane.

“What is this?” Tony rasped. “Rhodey, what the fuck is this?”

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Rhodey sighed as the words scrolled across the bottom: U.S. plane crashes in Argentina. Casualties unknown.

“No, no, no. That’s not her plane, is it? Mary wasn’t on that plane, Rhodey. Please just tell me—”

“I just saw the report, Tony. They haven’t made it public knowledge yet since the families haven’t been informed, but… there were no survivors. I’m so sorry, Tony. I… I’m just so sorry.”

Tony crashed into a chair, not even noticing as it rolled back several feet from the force. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not to his son.

“I… I’ll have to tell Ben and May. God, I have to tell Peter. How am I supposed to do that, Rhodes? How can I tell my son that his mother is dead? How can I—” Tony cut himself off with a gasping sob and buried his head in his hands. Mary was Peter’s momand now she was gone. Now he was doing this entirely on his own, and he didn’t how to even begin to process his grief and help his son through his and raisehim all on his own.

This couldn’t be happening.

“I’m on my way now, Tony. I’ll be at your place in twenty, and we’ll work through what you need to do together. I’m so sorry man, but you don’t have to go through this on your own. I’ll see you soon.”

Tony nodded, not even considering the fact that Rhodey couldn’t see him through the phone, and hung up.

He sat there for a long time, unmoving and unsure, waiting for Rhodey to arrive. He wasn’t sure what else he could do at the moment.

His parents hadn’t even made it to the airport before they crashed. But Mary had and she was still dead. Now the mother of his son was dead.

He had been twenty-one when his parents had died. Peter was four. How could he tell his son that still watched Dora the Explorer and believed that he’d see his mom next week, his son that had been untouched by death until now, that his mother was gone?

He didn’t know. He didn’t even know how to process it himself, so he was grateful when Rhodey appeared in his lab with soothing words and a plan. He barely listened as Rhodey tried to console him, because ultimately words were meaningless and he was more worried about Peter asleep upstairs, oblivious to the fact that his life had just been torn apart.

But it was good that Rhodey was here. He knew Rhodey would make sure he didn’t do anything stupid like drink himself into a coma and would force him to do the unpleasant task of giving Mary’s last living relative the news.

The anguish in Ben’s voice was nothing like his own, and it almost broke Tony’s heart. Telling someone that their sister was dead was a task he had never thought he would have, and it hurt him to hear someone that he genuinely cared about in so much pain.

He couldn’t even fathom how Peter would take it.

After the phone call ended, Tony flopped back into the chair, eyes distant as he stared at the phone in his hand, relieved and sad that there was no one else to call. There was no one else that would miss Mary Parker.

Tony wondered how many calls would have not be made when he died. Not many.

“Tony,” Rhodey’s voice cut through the static, and he snapped back into the present situation. “Listen, worrying about it isn’t going to do anything for you right now. Just… just get some sleep alright? You’ll just need to tell Peter in the morning. There’s no sense in waking him up now. Just give him some more time to…”

“To live in a world where his mom isn’t dead?” Tony filled in, his voice coming out less snarky than he had intended. His tone was empty, hollow just like the feeling in his chest.

“Yeah,” Rhodey said, grabbing Tony’s shoulder and pulling him out of the chair. “But I mean it Tony. You guys aren’t in this alone. You’ve got me, Pepper, Happy, Obi. We’ll help you through this. Together.”

Tony nodded as he stumbled his way up the stairs to his bed, though he didn’t feel like he was anything but alone.

It was just him and Peter now, and no pretty words or good intentions would change that.

Part Five

#marvel #mcu fanfiction #Tony Stark #Mary Parker #Peter Parker #James Rhodes #Happy Hogan #iron dad and spider son #iron family #iron man #spider-man #war machine #young Peter Parker #AU Tony is Peter's biological father #his legacy #my writing #tw: death mention #tw: language

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justanoutlawfic · 6 years ago

Text

The Forgotten One: Chapt. 1 [The Coronation]

Summary: When Roland crashes Regina's coronation, it leads to a huge rift in the Mills Family. Robin is determined to get her newly found brother to her wedding, while Regina wants to make up for her mistakes.

PLEASE READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE! I know it's long, but it'll help you decide if this is a fic for you or not.

This whole thing was prompted by @queen-of-the-merry-men, who also helped me with some of the dialogue. It's going to be multiple chapters, but not sure how long quite yet.

I want to preface this with some warnings. This is post-series finale. Literally takes place after Regina's final line. This will discuss Robin's rape, but not in detail. I love Regina, she is my favorite character and if you know me, you know this. Zelena began to grow on me in S7. That being said...there will be times in this fic (starting off in this chapter), that their past actions are called into question and are called out on not being the best. This is especially true for Zelena. This isn't a bashing fic of her, but it says basic truths about what she's done. Same with Regina. If that's a problem, then I wouldn't recommend this fic to you because I don't want to see hate comments about Roland or Robin doing that.

This verse is also going to be pretty much family relationships only, mainly Regina/Roland, Roland/Robin, Regina/Robin, Regina/Zelena and Robin/Zelena. The only romantic ships will be background, canon ones such as Robin/Alice and Henry/Ella. If romance is more your speed, I have other fics for that. Of course, past Outlaw Queen will be mentioned and Dark Outlaw Queen is discussed a bit as well. Robin Sr. will be discussed in a positive light, so, if that bothers you, this isn't your fic. Overall, this is a story of the Hood-Mills family healing.

That being said, if you're still with me, sit back, relax and enjoy...

Also on AO3

“In the end, we can get past it all with hope.”

Regina smiled as the crowd cheered, looking around at all of them. Snow and David still stood proudly behind her, her sons, Emma, Ella, Lucy, Hope and Hook on one side of the front row with Zelena, Alice, Robin and Nook on the other. She had once told Henry that one day he’d have more family than he knew what to do with, but it turned out that applied to her too. She never imagined she’d be crowned the Good Queen, let alone be overwhelmingly voted as one.

The cheers and applause died down, but it was followed by a slow, near sarcastic clap. She tilted her head and tried to figure out where it was coming from. A man that looked to be in his mid to late 20s appeared from the crowd. He had longer brown hair and some thick facial hair. It took her a minute to realize who it was, until she saw the dimples. He wasn’t smiling, but they were still evident.

“Roland,” she whispered.

“I’m surprised you recognize me, Regina,” he said. His voice had dropped over the past couple of decades, which surprised her more than it should’ve. “I see that you’re now the queen of the people. You saved the day once again.”

“I didn’t know you were coming. You look so grown up.” She stepped down from the platform once more and held her dress as she walked closer to him. Regina was close to hugging him, when she realized that he reeked of whiskey. “You’re drunk.”

“Astute observation.”

Roland pushed past her and looked over at the right side of the room. Robin stood there, looking shocked. Regina realized that the two siblings hadn’t seen each other since the day Zelena and David helped the Merry Men back to Sherwood Forest.

“My baby sister,” he slurred. “You’ve gotten a lot bigger since I last saw you.”

“You’re Roland,” Robin said, softly. Alice squeezed her hand, smiling a bit at the unconventional reunion.

“I’m surprised you know who I am. I thought everyone had forgotten about me.”

“This is hardly the place,” Zelena cut in, giving him a harsh look. “This is Regina’s big day.”

“Oh, so now you care about Regina?” Roland asked. “Because it sure didn’t seem that way when I was a kid. You disguised yourself as my mom, to hurt her and my father. Heck, if you hadn’t done that then your daughter wouldn’t even exist.”

Zelena’s eyes widened and Robin gasped, looking over at her mom. Regina suddenly felt as though the castle walls were crowding in around her. She and Zelena had made a decision a long time ago. They would never tell Robin how she was conceived. It wasn’t to protect Zelena, but more so, so Robin could never be hurt by it. To make things less awkward, Robin never knew that her aunt and father had ever been in love. Over 20 years of secrets were suddenly spilling out within minutes, from a clearly very hurt man.

“Is this true?” Robin asked her mother.

“Sweetheart…”

“I asked you if it was true!”

“Everyone, maybe we should stop this,” Snow stepped in, ever the diplomat. “We can start the reception and you all can step outside…”

“Snow White, always trying to take control of things,” Roland interrupted. “You couldn’t even take control of the town. I remember when you were mayor while Regina pouted over my father. You could barely hold it together.”

“Leave her alone,” Henry said, moving from beside his wife to stand by his mom. “You’re hurt and upset, but you have no right to do this. You’re clearly hurt over Mom and Zelena, but they don’t deserve this.”

“Don’t you get it, Henry?” He looked between the two sisters. “This is exactly what they deserve.” He turned to face the crowd. “Yes, you have your Good Queen. She protected everyone, except the one person she promised to.” Roland let out a bitter laugh. “I suppose she never really changed.”

Roland’s eyes locked on Regina’s which were filled with tears once more. This time, however, they weren’t ones of joy. She reached out to cup his cheek, but he pulled away from her.

“Your family ruined my life,” he said. “I just thought it was time you knew it.”

He pushed past Regina, purposefully bumping her shoulder as he did. The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him. The silence didn’t last long and soon, everyone was talking at once. Ry was asking Emma about what all of that was about. Snow and David were trying to talk to Regina, but she wasn’t saying a word, she was just staring at the doors. Henry told both of them to give her some space, that she didn’t need coddling right at that moment and Ella was trying to round up Lucy and the other kids to lead them out. Some murmured about how grown Roland had gotten, while others admitted they had long forgotten all about him.

The biggest blowout was happening between Zelena and Robin. The younger Mills woman kept throwing her arms up in the air, as she demanded answers from her mother. Zelena looked like she was on the verge of tears herself. Alice had a hand on her fiancé’s back, while Killian had taken several steps away from Zelena, clearly remembering his own trauma surrounding his rape.

“Is what he said true?” Robin demanded. “Just answer the damn question, Mother!”

“I…I was a different person back then,” Zelena stammered.

“That’s not what I asked. Is it true? Did you rape my father?”

“I wouldn’t call it rape…”

“Let’s look at it this way. When he slept with you, did he think you were Marian?”

Zelena bit down on her lip. “Yes.”

“Then that’s rape! I can’t believe this!”

“I never wanted you to know…”

“I can imagine why. You didn’t want to admit to what you had done!”

“That’s not it.”

“Yes it is. God.” Robin turned to her aunt, who hadn’t said a word during this entire thing. “I’m sorry Aunt Regina, but I have to go.”

She stormed out the exit, Alice chasing out after her. Killian spared Zelena one last look of disgust before following out after his daughter. Zelena turned to Regina, now sobbing. She put a hand on her arm and finally, Regina broke out of her trance.

“Regina,” she choked out. “What am I going to do? Robin is never going to forgive me!”

“That’s not the issue right now,” Regina said, looking up at her. “What the hell happened to Roland?”

#the forgotten one verse #dimples queen #dimples peanut #curious archer #regal believer #hood-mills family #mills family #dark outlaw queen #mayor queen

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junker-town · 4 years ago

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The NFL’s 5 winners and 4 losers from the 2020-2021 season

With the NFL season in the books, it’s time to look back on the winners and losers of the season.

The NFL season is over and Tom Brady is again a Super Bowl champion. While it’s a familiar ending to another season for football fans, this year has been anything but normal.

There were times when it felt like we would never get to Super Bowl LV as the ever-present threat of Covid hung over the world. Players and coaches got sick, games were postponed, and the Denver Broncos even played a game without any quarterbacks. It never felt like a good idea to power through a season in the midst of a global pandemic, but the NFL was able to finish the year.

It’s time to look back at an NFL season unlike any other. While Brady and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers ended the year as Super Bowl champions, there were plenty of other players and teams worth celebrating. Meanwhile, there’s also a group of people who can’t wait until next year and a chance at redemption after a trying season.

Here are the winners and losers of the 2020-2021 NFL season.

Winners

Tom Brady

Was Brady nuts to leave the New England Patriots after two decades and six Super Bowl titles? Obviously not. In his first year with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and away from New England, Brady added his seventh Super Bowl title and his fifth Super Bowl MVP. Per NFL.com, only Yogi Berra, Mickey Mantle, Joe DiMaggio and Bill Russell have seven championships and three or more MVPs in the major North American sports.

Thing is, at the advanced age for an NFL quarterback of 43, Brady doesn’t look even close to being done. He looks like he can play as long as doing so interests him.

The NFL itself

Nobody thought the NFL, with so many people and so many moving parts involved, could get through an entire season relatively uninterrupted during a devastating pandemic. The NFL did just that. Sure, there were unfortunate circumstances like the Denver Broncos playing a game without a quarterback and some games moved around. The league, though, played every game every week and the Super Bowl was played Sunday as originally scheduled.

Congratulations to everyone involved. I know the rest of us can’t get the daily Covid-19 testing that was administered to to NFL players and associated personnel, but the league’s success is proof that the protocols — mask-wearing, social distancing, quarantining when necessary — work.

Alex Smith

Simply setting foot for a cameo made Washington Football Team quarterback Alex Smith an extraordinary story. Actually playing a lot, and playing well enough to win five of his six regular-season starts, made what Smith accomplished something beyond extraordinary. Whatever that is. I don’t have the word for it.

Smith won the NFL Comeback Player of the Year award. The league should probably rename it in his honor. After the gruesome 2018 broken leg and the subsequent infections that nearly resulted in amputation playing football �� subjecting that leg to being hit by angry 300-pound people — shouldn’t have even been a consideration. Yet, Smith did it. And did it well.

Ron Rivera

The Washington coach didn’t let a little thing like cancer, squamous cell carcinoma to be exact, stop him from coaching. He coached through treatment for the disease, led the Football Team to an unlikely NFC East title and eventually — and most importantly — emerged with a clean bill of health.

What a year for Washington, by the way. Smith’s comeback. Rivera’s courage. You can even toss in Chase Young winning Defensive Rookie of the Year honors.

Aaron Rodgers

The Packers selected quarterback Jordan Love near the end of the first round in the 2020 NFL Draft, telling Rodgers and the rest of the NFL world they thought the 37-year-old quarterback’s career was winding down. Well, Rodgers spent 2020 shooting that idea to smithereens!

Rodgers led the Packers to a 13-3 record, winning his third MVP award in what arguably might have been the finest season of his Hall of Fame career. His passer rating (121.5) was second-highest of his career, his QBR of 84.3 was a career-best and his completion percentage (70.1), touchdown percentage (9.1) and number of touchdown passes (48) were also career-bests.

So, umm, Rodgers’ career isn’t done. And if Love is going to have one it might need to be someplace else.

Losers

NFL fans

The NFL got in a full season, and as indicated above deserves to be congratulated for it. Fans, though, mostly had the game taken away from them by the pandemic. The NFL proved it could get through a season during a pandemic, but the game just isn’t the same without full stadiums. Thirteen teams played all their home games in empty stadiums in 2020. Total attendance, per ESPN, was 1,233,654. That’s down from 16,894,856 in 2019.

Everybody wants full stadiums, tailgates and the full fan experience to return in the fall. Wear your mask and get a vaccine when you are eligible for it and we might get there.

Houston Texans

The Texans just kept making a bid situation worse First, they give a middling coach in Bill O’Brien the GM job and complete control of the roster. O’Brien made a mess of that and got himself fired early in the season. Right move by the Texans! So, that makes them potential winners, right?

Well, it should have. But, then they went and coddled an over-his-head executive in Jack Easterby, made a mess out of their process of hiring a new head coach, and alienated a young franchise quarterback in DeShaun Watson who is now trying to get out of town.

What the heck was Nick Caserio thinking, leaving the New England Patriots to become GM of this hot mess? Maybe Caserio, who has had multiple overtures from teams the past few years, should be on this ‘loser’s’ list, too.

Bill Belichick

The greatest coach of all time either couldn’t or wouldn’t give the greatest quarterback of all time the playmakers he needed on offense. Then, Belichick wouldn’t make nice with Brady. So, Brady ended his incredible 20-year run with the New England Patriots to find those playmakers with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

Belichick has won with and without any number of star players over the years, and with many different types of teams. Brady was the constant. It’s clear who found more success after their divorce.

Brady just won his seventh Super Bowl. Belichick? Without quality quarterback play, New England went 7-9, finished third in the AFC East, missed the playoffs for the first time since 2008 and had its first losing season since Belichick’s first season with the Patriots, way back in 2000.

So, yeah, maybe Bill needed Tom more than Tom needed Bill.

New York Jets

For 13 weeks, the New York Jets had the quarterback they had been dreaming of since Joe Namath in their grasp. They were 0-13, were going to get the No. 1 overall pick, and Trevor Lawrence was going to be theirs.

Then, disaster! They went and won two of their last three games to finish 2-14. They will pick No. 2 in the draft, with the 1-15 Jacksonville Jaguars going first and getting Lawrence.

Things may still work out fantastically for the Jets. Justin Fields or Zach Wilson might be great quarterbacks, should the Jets choose one with the No. 2 pick. Maybe they can trade out of the No. 2 spot and get a bunch of picks.

Still, all they had to do was lose a couple more games and this would have been much simpler.

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justfandomwritings · 8 years ago

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Silent (Soulmate!Thomas Jefferson - Part Two)

A/N: Tags haven’t been working, just a heads up.

Well I got quite a few requests for it, so here is a part two to the Thomas Jefferson Soulmate AU I posted earlier this week. I apologize for it taking so long, but I had some other things I had to finish first. Thank you to everyone who liked/reblogged part one and everyone who requested a part two. This isn't my best, I know. I'm sorry, but I hope it's okay.

Again, starts with James Madison’s point of view and shifts to Thomas. I don’t think there’s any warnings necessary for this. It does deal with the topic of mutism, but that is not something that is being debated in any way. It’s just a piece of the characters’ background.

Part One Masterlist

There are three facts about Thomas Jefferson of which James Madison is absolutely certain: 1) Thomas Jefferson had a soulmate. 2) Thomas Jefferson was the only person alive who could rival Alexander Hamilton’s ability to stick his foot in his mouth. 3) The look on Thomas’s face right now was not that of a man who didn’t want a soulmate.

Thomas was sat on a bench outside in the foyer when James found him. His elbows were on his knees, and his head was in his hands. He looked…lost, or as close to lost as a Jefferson could get. He wasn’t crying; there was no shaking in his shoulders for that to be the case. He was, however, mumbling to himself, something he only did when he was truly overwhelmed.

James couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend in a state like this. Nothing ever rattled Thomas. At most, things got under his skin, but in those situations he had a habit of attacking the problem head on. He didn’t dwell on anything; he faced it. Look at Alexander Hamilton. The poor young man hadn’t even made it ten minutes into a conversation with Thomas before the two had launched into a full blown battle.

This man on the bench was a side of Thomas James did not think existed, or at the very least would not be seen in public. He didn’t know whether to comfort him or try to talk sense into him. Whichever one he chose would surely be the wrong answer. Undoubtedly, the right answer was to let Thomas sit there wallowing in his self-pity for an age until the man finally decided what to do for himself. That wasn’t an idea James could handle, though. James had a sneaking suspicion that Thomas would brood the same way Thomas did all things, in excess. James didn’t like seeing his friend suffering, even if there were a number of people in the other room who felt he deserved it, even if James felt he deserved it sometimes.

James sat down in the open seat beside Thomas with a hefty sigh. That was another fact he could add to his list: Thomas never made things easy. “It could be worse.”

“How could it be worse?” Thomas spat, disapproving of James’s nonchalant tone.

“Well, I ran across a young girl back home who met her soulmate when she was quite young. His first words to her, at the age of five, were, ‘You have a booger hanging out your nose’.” Humor probably wouldn’t help the situation, but it couldn’t hurt either.

James didn’t need to see Thomas’s face to know he was rolling his eyes. “Oh yes, it is so much worse to have a crude, inadvertent observation of a child plastered as your soulmate words than it is to have the incredibly cruel and offensive words of a grown man implying he’s disgusted with you.”

“You aren’t though,” James pointed out, “disgusted with her. It was a moment of anger.” James paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. “Y-You…” He hesitated to ask, “You aren’t disgusted with her, correct?”

“Of course not!” Thomas growled out.

The silence hung in the air for a long beat, and neither of the men really understood why nor did they make an effort to. Not even the sound of dinner being served in the banquet hall interrupted the moment that had settled over the pair of friends. There was so much to talk about and yet so little to say.

“I have a soulmate,” Thomas broke the silence with a quiet murmur, so quiet James wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

“So I’ve heard,” James slumped back against the wall. “Who’d have ever thought?” His tone was teasing, but there was an air of finality to it. In all honesty, no one had ever thought Thomas would have a soulmate, and not just because he didn’t have words on his arms.

Thomas snorted dismissively and finally pulled his face from his hands, glancing back over his shoulder at James. “James, I have gone my entire life knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I would live and die alone.”

James leaned forward, elbows on his knees, sinking down to Thomas’s hunched frame. Now wasn’t the time for teasing. Now wasn’t the time for coddling. Now was the time to be honest with his friend, for his own good. “I can’t pretend I understand your pain, because I don’t. Not just because I’ve always known I would find my soulmate, but because I don’t understand how you could be upset with this. You’ve just found your other half. You’ve found a part of you that you never knew existed. You should be jumping for joy, shouting from the rooftops, not sulking angrily in a corner. You don’t have to live alone anymore, Thomas, but you still might.”

Thomas said nothing for a long moment, and James shook his head in disappointment. No one could get through to Thomas if he wasn’t open to listen. He heaved himself to his feet and prepared to head back to the banquet.

“I-I’m not angry.” Thomas quietly refuted, giving James pause. “I’m just… confused.”

James sighed and turned back to the bench, looking down at Thomas, who was looking back at him with burning eyes. “You’re confused?” James didn’t intend to sound so disbelieving. “Thomas, imagine how she must feel. You heard Mrs. Washington as well as I did. She’s spent her entire life thinking you hate her, thinking her soulmate hates her. Even her one true love, the one person in the universe she’s destined to be with, is disgusted by her.” James paused for a moment, hoping that would sink in.

Thomas didn’t respond, but his eyes went down to his arm, the space where the words should be. His thumb rubbed over the blank skin, stretching it over the muscle beneath. It was as blank but somehow felt far less empty.

“James,” Thomas shook his head and looked up, “I…” His voice trailed off when he realized James was gone, leaving him alone to his thoughts.

With a huff, Thomas’s head fell back. This situation went against everything Thomas had come to know. Thomas had always spoken out against soulmates. He wrote about, argued against the very concept of them. He’d debated the topic with Alexander Hamilton earlier that night even. As far as he’d been concerned soulmates weren’t a gift from the universe, they were a rope, more specifically a noose. At least, that’s what he’d always thought. Then again, he’d never known he had one to begin with. He didn’t know what to think anymore.

His entire life he’d thought he was alone. Yesterday, he’d thought he was alone. A few hours ago, he’d thought he was alone. Standing on the Washington’s front lawn, he’d thought he was alone. And now? He felt more alone than ever.

(Y/n) had ran from him the moment she knew who he was. Not the moment she knew he was Thomas Jefferson, Secretary of State. She ran when she knew he was her soulmate.

Martha Washington’s voice was yelling at Thomas in the back of his mind, ‘Ashamed of who she is, knowing you’re ashamed of it too!’ Of course she’d run from him. She thought he was ashamed of her. ‘Decades of hating herself.’ His words had made her ashamed of herself.

Only Thomas wasn’t ashamed. Ashamed of his own behavior maybe, but not her… never her. He’d only known of her existence for an hour. He only really knew her name, but he already felt drawn to her. ‘You must be her soulmate,’He could practically hear George telling him.

Yes, she was his soulmate.

Thomas pushed himself to his feet with a sense of determination. Likely, (Y/n) had already left. He would have to find where you were staying to give his apologies. The Washington’s would know where she was staying. He knew Martha would sooner chew his head off than give him that information. George might be talked into it though. It was certainly worth a try.

“Decided to go after her, I see?”

Thomas nearly jumped. James was standing across from him, coming down the stairs at the other end of the foyer, a thin box tucked tightly under his arm. Thomas had been so wrapped up in his head that he hadn’t realized James had gone upstairs. He thought he’d gone back to the banquet. “Well, as you have so eloquently pointed out, I don’t have to live alone, but there’s a good chance my harsh tongue will ensure I do anyway.” Thomas snapped in a harsher tone than he intended.

“I’m glad you’ve seen the error of your ways,” James was practically smirking as he crossed over to Thomas. “Here, I borrowed this from George’s study.” He extended the box to Thomas.

Thomas accepted with a curious look, “What’s this for?”

“Well, she’s mute, Thomas.” James stated plainly. Thomas’s answering expression showed he wasn’t catching on, so James explained. “Writing materials, Thomas, honestly I thought you were the smart one. She’s mute. She uses sign language, and last time I checked you don’t.” James tapped the top of the box. “If you want her to talk to you, you’ll need her to write it down.”

“She’s still here?” Thomas hated how hopeful he sounded. If everything worked out well, James was never going to let him hear the end of it.

James nodded, smirk still firmly in place with no sign of faltering. “Saw her out the window of George’s study. She’s sitting on the steps on the back porch.”

James turned, leaving his friend to do with as he may, but Thomas caught James by the arm for a moment. “Thank you, James. Thank you.”

“Anytime, my friend.” He smiled. “Now, go. Don’t leave the poor girl waiting.”

Thomas nodded his affirmation and walked briskly down the hall without another word. There wasn’t time for words now. Thomas had a more pressing matter at hand. He’d, no doubt, discuss the situation with James again later.

When Thomas stepped out back, (Y/n) was sat on the steps just outside, exactly where James said she would be. She was sitting on the middle of the five steps, her feet up laying across the length of the step. Her hair was partially concealing her face as she stared out across the field. Clearly, she hadn’t expected anyone to come looking for her.

Thomas approached quietly, but not quietly enough as the boards creaked under his shoes.

(Y/n) turned and caught him halfway to the stairs. Her eyes were shining, but there were no signs she’d been crying, which relieved Thomas slightly. She caught her lip between her teeth for a second, clearly pondering, before she turned her gaze back to the field.

Thomas took it as a good sign that she hadn’t run, or spat at his feet, or tried to slap him, or any number of other offenses he probably deserved. She looked like she’d been thinking about it for a second before she thought better of it. He’d take it though. It was a step in the right direction, a step he hadn’t earned yet.

With a small degree of hesitation, bordering on nerves, Thomas lowered himself to sit opposite (Y/n) on the top step. It was a rather uncomfortable position. He didn’t completely fit on the step, and his knees were at an odd angle. However, it seemed to catch (Y/n)’s attention which was a start. Setting the writing material on the step between them, Thomas leaned his head back against the edge of the stairs to look at the stars.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend he was back at Monticello, almost. There was a smell of grass in the air, but it was too faint. The breeze felt nice against his skin, but it was too cold. The stars were bright, but they were in the wrong position. Everything was just a little off, and yet for some strange reason it still felt right. He knew the reason; it was just hard to admit.

“I always wondered what it would be like to have a soulmate,” Thomas confessed softly, trying not to break the quiet, “to know that one day you will find the one, to know there is someone out there who is destined for you and only you. I always envied them, knowing there was someone out there to love them.” His voice sounded almost tired.

In truth, Thomas was tired. He was so tired. Tired of arguing his every breath, tired of monitoring his every word, tired of fixing other’s messes. He wanted a break from working, from thinking, from listening. He needed a break. He needed something, someone, to lighten the load.

“I never told anyone that, of course, not even James.” Thomas continued, “How could I? I could never admit such a thing aloud; I could barely admit it to myself: that I wanted something they had and I knew I never could.”

Thomas sighed. There was no good way to explain himself. Words were failing him, abandoning him. What was there to say? Nothing would take back the things he’d said. Nothing would remove those words off her arm. Nothing would ever show how truly sorry he was for every pain he had put her through.

A small pressure settled on Thomas’s bent knee, and he nearly lurched. (Y/n) was looking him over thoughtfully, a hand settled on his leg. He couldn’t be sure if she was trying to comfort him or wanted his attention. Either was a good sign. She didn’t look like she wanted to run anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas met her gaze head on. The sooner he said this the better. “In a fit of anger, I took it out on you. I had no idea it would mark you for life. You have to know I never would have if I’d known. Those words, they were just words. I meant nothing by them.”

(Y/n) raised a hand halfway in the air and then hesitated. She looked around in frustration and back towards the house. Lowering both her hands, she huffed out and looked down at her lap.

“Oh!” Thomas realized as (Y/n) stared down at her hands, upset. Picking up the box, he held it out to her. “Writing papers,” he explained.

(Y/n) nodded somberly and took the box gently from his hands. Thomas looked away as she set things out. There was something so vulnerable about her expression in that moment, and he felt wrong looking on.

Thomas imagined he would feel vulnerable as well. The frustration when she raised her hand showed that, wanting to communicate but being so dependent on others for your words. He was such a vocal man; he couldn’t imagine dealing with something like that. Thomas had to admit; he admired her for it.

Thomas felt a tap against the side of his leg and turned his eyes back to (Y/n). She’d turned the paper around between the two of them Blank ink in an elegant hand scrolled across the top of the page. ‘I appreciate your apology, but they were more than just words to me.’

“I’m sure,” Thomas conceded, looking up from the paper. “You have every right to think of them as such. They… I have caused you a great amount of pain. You have every right to every ill will you harbor towards me. I have earned them all. I just want you to know I said them with no malice directed toward you. My argument with Alexander Hamilton had me on edge, and in a heated moment I said something I did not mean.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips and turned the page around, writing hastily beneath her earlier words. ‘Yes, I’ve met Secretary Hamilton. He’s quite an infuriating character.’

Thomas barked out a laugh. “That is quite true. He simply cannot fathom the idea a person might disagree with him.”

(Y/n) bit back a smirk and continued filling the page. It was a tediously slow conversation as (Y/n) wrote, but Thomas was patient enough to wait for her replies. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless words, and it seemed to be relaxing (Y/n).

When she turned the page around again, she’d written near a paragraph. ‘I won’t falsely accept your apology, Secretary Jefferson. That would be rude to both of us. However, I do acknowledge that there were extenuating circumstances on your part. Please understand that I have been living with this offense on my arm my entire life, and it will not miraculously disappear after tonight. Knowing the situation does help, but it will not change that fact. I will do what I can to set aside that pain and move past it for both of our benefits, and I’m sure one day I will forgive you for it. Hopefully, that day is sooner than later. Although, I can make no promises of when that will be.’

Thomas nodded along as he was reading. “I can ask for no more than that. You’re truly being far kinder than my situation probably deserves.”

(Y/n) smiled rather hesitantly at him and wrote in the small amount of space along the bottom of the page. ‘General Washington spoke at length about you before your arrival, and I’ve assumed this situation must be hard for you as well.’

“I would ask what he spoke about,” Thomas hesitated, “but if you know this is hard for me than I can assume what he told you.”

(Y/n)’s smile dropped, and she nodded reluctantly, pulling out a second page to scratch out, ‘I was sorry to hear about your wife, Secretary Jefferson. I have also lost a spouse. Not one I cared for, but it was still a painful experience. I would not wish it on anyone. ’

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows, “You as well?” That was rather surprising. Most people with soulmates would wait decades, a lifetime, to marry the one. Thomas’s wife had only agreed to marry him because she had been widowed by her soulmate. They had loved each other, but she had never been in love with him the way he was with her. The memories of her soulmate had always haunted her, and when she passed it had only further confirmed his loneliness when he had to bury her beside another man.

‘Yes,’ (Y/n)’s hand was a little shaky over the admission. ‘I suppose I should also ask for some of your forgiveness. You did not know I existed. I knew of you, and still I married another. Forgive me; I did not know there would be any situation surrounding what you said to me. I assumed that you would you be quite a cruel man. My husband, John Aylett, turned out to be the cruel one.’

“Is he…” Thomas hesitated, not just because he was unsure of asking but because he was unsure if he wanted to know, “Is he the reason you are…”

‘No,’ (Y/n) immediately wrote out and showed him before turning the paper back to explain, ‘that was purely biological. Although, John certainly had no problem pointing out my deficiency. He was part of the reason I disliked the idea of meeting you. I assumed you shared his view.’

Thomas refuted adamantly, “I assure you I don’t. You have no reason to be shamed in such a way. Whatever else you think of me, believe that. I’m happy to accept who you are and help however I can.”

‘Like bringing me paper,’ (Y/n)’s expression was teasing, and it relieved Thomas.

“I cannot take credit for that. James borrowed it from President Washington’s study when I came to look for you. I was in quite a rush. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.” Thomas admitted.

‘Well give him my thanks. This conversation would have been rather one-sided otherwise.’ (Y/n) paused and huffed out a breath, ‘Like most of my conversations these days.’

“Not to worry,” Thomas actually smiled at this. “I almost always have paper on hand. You just caught me at a bad time…” His smile quickly morphed into his usual cocky smirk as a thought occurred to him. “And besides, I’m sure I will know sign language by the time we see each other again… I’m a very quick study,” Thomas winked.

The couple smiled widely at each other, and all tension broke.

When James came out to check on them an hour later, Thomas was practically rolling in laughter, clutching one of the papers to his chest, as (Y/n)’s face stretched in a triumphant smile. The pair, and most of the stairs, were covered in used writing paper. The box lay beside them with only a sheet or two left of what had been a full stack of paper.

James tried to bite back his wide grin. “Thomas, I believe you owe President Washington a new box of paper.”

Thomas simply chuckled and grinned back at (Y/n), “Yes, yes, of course. As much as he wants.”

#soulmate au #hamilton soulmate au #hamilton x reader #thomas jefferson x reader #thomas jefferson imagine #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton fanfic #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs fanfiction #daveed diggs imagine #hamilton one shot #hamilton imagine #Hamilton imagines #Hamilton imagine #Hamilton

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thissupposedcrime · 8 years ago

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otayuri as... batcat....

Fam, I am so sorry. I wrote 2k of Otayuri dramatic superhero AU before realizing you requested Batman/Catwoman dynamics. If it helps, picture the Hero of Kazakhstan having no idea how to handle Yuri dressed like Chat Noir from Miraculous Ladybug. Maybe I should write that next?

Superhero AU

In which there is very little skating but the universal constants in Yuri Plisetsky’s life are Victor ruining everything and Otabek Altin’s distracting jaw line.

Before Yuuri Katsuki, Yuri Plistsky is happy.

All he has ever wanted is to be a superhero, and his dream is real after years of injuries, training, and trauma.

They have a good thing going, a well-oiled machine of badassery and rage. Yakov has been training superheroes for decades, since the 1970s when having a secret identity was still outlawed in Russia. He and Lilia even lead the revolution and protests for heroes to retain separate personas.

(And like everything Lilia involves herself in, she wins.)

Lilia’s elastic bones enabled a terrifyingly electric career as a ballerina.

Yakov’s power of flight and telekinesis made him a masterful hero and a terrible task master of Russia’s secret hero development program and leader of St. Petersburg’s heroes.

Civilians know him as a businessman. A few assume mob connections but Yuri’s hung out in enough malls, alleyways, and schools to know people pretend ignorance of Yakov’s identity. Because it means something to him. Jesus.

Under Yakov and Lilia, Yuri P (20, abnormal flexibility, spite, and ability to communicate with animals) thrives, protecting St. Petersburg with:

Mila (23, controls fire, and makes jokes about having no chill that Yuri would rather kill himself than hear again).

Georgi: (27, an actual fucking witch who can’t keep his shit together depending on his heartbreak or the lunar cycle)

The lunar cycle thing is bullshit, just an excuse for his really emotional days.

And…the ice-man cometh himself.

Victor (28) is a dick. Victor is a dick, thinking with his dick. Only that asshole would go to charity dinner celebrating the Sochi Grand Prix and fall in love with a fucking ice skater named Yuuri Katsuki (24) INSTEAD OF GUARDING THE PLACE.

The dude was drunk and likely doesn’t remember who Victor is, but did that stop him from rushing home to Yakov’s training space, squeeing about soulmates? No.

Victor trashes the place in his haste to pack, leaving destruction and a garish, proud note, “Retiring to Japan for love!” in his wake.

Years prior, when Victor was 14 and successfully adopted by Yakov, he asked if Victor would like to continue skating or go into ‘the family business’ of protecting St. Petersburg

The dick just had to become the best superhero Russia ever had. Fuck people with ice powers in Russia. They have to do nothing and get all the credit. Fuck Victor.

Naturally, they can’t let Victor go without a fight, but, plot twist, THE ONLY ONE TO REMAIN IN RUSSIA IS YURI P.

Yakov follows his dipshit son out of foolish, displaced loyalty (everyone knows he wants to meet his prospective new in-law)

Lilia looks on with disgust. Yuri inherited this look from her.

In hysterics, Mila and Georgi are not missing out on this. Besides, Mila knows about the hot springs. She’d literally light anyone on fire who tried to stop her. Georgi lives to see Victor get yelled at. Yuri can relate.

“We deserve this Yuri. We’ve dealt with him longer.”

“Assholes, you didn’t live with him and Yakov for the past decade!”

So Yuri P stays home with Lilia because someone needs to actually do their damn job around here.

“Are you sure you’re not jealous that Katsuki threw himself at Victor and not you?”

“Shut up hag!” There are not posters of Yuuri Katsuki’s skating in his bedroom, despite what she insinuates.

There are. Many.

More importantly, Katsuki’s a fucking civilian. Dating those is a death sentence. Look at half the superhero community for proof.

Yakov isn’t irresponsible. Just his children are. So he contacts a few old friends to see who wouldn’t mind covering for his missing team while they’re out of the country.

Yuri isn’t good at interacting with the teen girls who mob crime scenes during danger.

Yuri thinks if they’re stupid enough to stay when someone is shooting thunderbolts from the sky, he doesn’t need to save them. This is natural selection trying to work things out.

Honestly, part of the reason they want Victor to come home is because he’s the only one who handles the public well.

When Yuri was 17, he was nearly strangled by a supervillain because Mila and Victor were busy entertaining the crowd by melting ice to water and then freezing it into ice sculptures.

Yuri should have stayed in Moscow

(Tragic backstory of civilians-heroes dating in his family and always dying)

“Fuckers, I can protect the city on my own. I basically do already!”

“Language!”

“Lilia, it’s true! Last month Georgi was too busy crying and almost let a bank robber escape.”

Despite his compelling arguments and temper tantrums, no one listens to Yuri. The story of his life.

On a bleak January morning, two foreign gifts arrive for Yuri:

A postcard from Mila describing how amazing Yuuri Katsuki and his town are. Using a lighter, he watches it burn with deep satisfaction.

A man from Kazakhstan, flanked by a duo of pale losers, marches into Yakov’s training center, unarguably the prime superhero compound in the country.

(”In Europe,” Victor has been known to drunkenly proclaim until reminded it’s a secret, asshole)

The two men are dressed in nondescript suits, clean-cut but scuffed shoes. Bureaucrats from Russia to help the paperwork and assistant coaches.

Ugh.

The other man? He’s broad shouldered, compact but graceful as he navigates the wild superpowers and children training under Yuri’s less than watchful eye. He’s at least three centimeters shorter than Yuri yet intimidating and imposing, standing in front of a window as the gray skies outside outline his body.

Yuri is disgusted to note the man is wearing sunglasses indoors, and uses that fact to justify ignoring that his jaw is better cut than any diamond or how large his biceps appear under his leather jacket. This man stares at Yuri, like an old friend rediscovered. Yuri growls.

“Who the hell are you?” Yuri asks, hackles raised while the bureaucrats realize they’re in over their heads in assuming Lilia hasn’t been running things with brutal effectiveness since Yakov left.

It does not matter that people have been collapsing in exhaustion or crying during training. Fucking Yakov has clearly been coddling people if three weeks with Lilia has broken their spirit.

Yuri despairs of what will happen once he retires.

This city is going to wither and die.

“Otabek Altin,” the stranger replies, taking off his glasses and tucking them into a pocket. At least he didn’t put them on his head. Hesitating for a short moment, he reaches a hand out to Yuri, who decides to grasp it as firmly as possible.

Altin doesn’t even wince, handshake powerful and strong. Impressed, Yuri smirks and thinks Altin won’t be so bad.

Naturally, Yuri is right. Otabek, Beka, proves himself an indispensable revelation, a gift from Kazakhstan requested by Yakov to help out in training.

His scowl terrifies their cockier recruits but calms the students skittish when people without powers train them. Unlike countless others before him, no one questions if Otabek should be present, despite his lack of laser beams or telepathy.

Proudly, Yuri calls Mila and tells her to keep enjoying Japan, for Beka is doing a better job than any of them ever had in training and supporting him.

“How rude Yura!”

In the background of one such call, Victor is building an impromptu ice rink for Yuuri on a beach while Yakov and his beloved scream about his usage of powers.

“Do they know who Victor is?” Yuri already knows the answer to this question.

“Well. They love him regardless, and that’s all that matters to Yakov,” Mila offers brightly.

But back to Beka, wonderful, thoughtful Beka who understands what Yuri wants before he asks, patiently listens as he whines about the villains he has faced and his annoying colleagues.

Beka hums encouragingly every time he collapses against his warm shoulder during practice, allows him to nestle his chin against his collarbone.

Lilia doesn’t hate him. Clearly Beka isn’t a regular civilian but powered by miracles and effort.

Occasionally, when he stops raving about Beka to Lilia during dinner, he delicately broaches the topic of keeping him once those losers come home from vacation.

“He’s good for you,” Lilia states. He takes it as tacit approval to amp up his efforts to show off St. Petersburg.

Yakov will be overjoyed he’s found someone so capable to make up for the defects he calls teammates, Yuri decides.

It is a shame he cannot keep the Hero as well.

Nearly a month after Victor fled, Yuri breaks up a museum heist. Most of the criminals are normal, powerless, but the leader shoots plasma from a gauntlet on his hand.

Ice Tiger has successfully knocked out all but the jackass leaking liquid from his wrist, and cautiously moves around the columns at the front of the museum when jackass gets a lucky shot, and sends the columns Ice Tiger rests between into a crumbling mess.

Before Yuri can start swearing, and dodge, a man clad in all black, save for a dark blue belt, steps next to him and presses a palm against each column, steadying them. His mask spans the bridge of his nose, circling around to the back of his neck.

Yuri scampers away with, not stupid enough to hesitate or question during battle, and sends plasma jackass flying with a well placed kick to his upper chest.

He might have given him a collapsed lung, but Yuri cares more for the man standing behind him, nonplussed as he holds up tons of weight.

Once the police arrive and danger settled, Yuri impatiently drags the stranger up to the rooftop.

“Who the hell are you?”

The man blinks, but his dark costume and the pale snippets of moonlight make it impossible to determine the color of his eyes. Alarmingly, he pauses to consider his answer and Yuri wonders if debris concussed him. “Hero.” He finally settles on.

“Hero. Hero of what?” Yuri rolls his eyes in frustration.

“Hero of a far off land, where I use my strength to protect my people.”

“Why. are. you. here.” Yuri grits out between clenched teeth, frustrated he’s been saved, by the slowness of his conversation, and over the powerful upper body of this super-strength junkie. He’s shit at upperbody power, known for his lithe form and kicks. Mila regularly outlifts him.

“Yakov requested-”

“Motherfucker,” he yowls. Alley cats in the street below make noise in unison.

“Sorry for rescuing you,” Hero replies placidly.

“I had it under control!”

“Of course you did. You’re an excellent hero, but I thought it best to avoid more damage to the museum.” Yuri’s shoulders relax slightly at the sincere, admiring tone of Hero.

“Whatever. If Yakov sent you, I might as well make sure you don’t accidentally destroy my city.” For some reason, Yuri doesn’t loathe this guy, despite his nondescript costume or the assumption Yuri can’t protect the city alone.

“Thank you for your confidence,” he replies, tumbleweed dry, and Yuri muffles a laugh, oddly charmed and at ease.

“Do you normally dress like that?” Yuri can’t help but ask as he paces across the roof, preparing to jump down to a fire escape.

“No, I reserve my real costume for home.”

“Oh. Alright.” Better than nothing.

Cue a night of Hero being impeccable and charming and the best partner Yuri ever asked for

In the morning, Yuri will call Yakov and tell him how slowly the Hero aid he requested arrived but he doesn’t disapprove.

When Yakov hangs up the phone, he’ll turn to Mila and wonder if he imagined Yuri’s praise of Otabek Altin for the past week.

Mila laughs uncontrollably, once she pieces it together.

Victor is impossible to drag away, but Yakov refuses to give up, and Mila and Georgi refuse to abandon the show. Georgi might be trying to fall in love with a local girl. Yuri doesn’t want to know.

It means perfect weeks with Otabek in the day, sharing brunch. Beka takes on some of Yuri’s instructor duties (something he’s shit at anyway) so he can train with the upper level students.

Whenever possible Yuri tugs him out of the training center early, desperate to show off his city and give Beka a reason to stay.

Among the many perfect things about Otabek is his understanding of time. He never calls Yuri until the afternoon on weekends, because his week is busy with training in the day, fighting for half the evening.

He even orders “more sleep” when Yuri awakens before 1 PM on a Sunday and calls him. Beka is so thoughtful.

It means perfect weeks with Hero in the night, silent communication and a fearlessness Yuri’s never understood before. The crime rate keeps low so they explore St. Petersburg in the dark or sometimes they play, chasing each other across the rooftops or seeing how many cats Hero can carry, along with Yuri perched on his back.

Hero shares secrets more freely than Beka, the only complaint he has.

He’s waiting for someone to remember him.

His laugh is ugly when Yuri tells him no one is worth his time if they can’t remember Hero.

Yuri falls in love in the mornings, falls in love during the night.

Yuri doesn’t realize the trouble he’s in until early April, when Mila disrupts an early dinner with Beka to announce their return.

“A man held a gun to Yakov’s head and Yuuri punched him! Oh Yuri, you should have seen it. Victor’s still crying over his fiancee throwing himself into such peril for the family.”

“Did Yakov already disarm the gun with his powers?”

“Well yes, but Yuuri didn’t know that! Yakov’s charmed and helped Victor shop for a ring.”

“Wait, what?”

“Vakov approves! We’re coming home.”

A dial tone interrupts Mila’s explanation of their flight details.

Yuri has this huge night long panic as he figures out he’s in love with two people, doesn’t know what to do.

Falling in love with civilians is a death sentence. Just look at his family.

He loves Otabek far too much to put him at risk. So he lets him go.

Ultimately, he cares about Hero because he’s powerful and shares everything with Yuri. Yuri feels safer than he ever did with Mila or Victor or even Lilia who treats him like her own.

Someone needs to tell Yuri the only reason he feels this way is because part of him must realize its Otabek and only trusts him because its Otabek but god help him, he is slow and still doesn’t connect the two after over a month.

But then Yuri remembers Hero belongs to his own country, to another person. So he lets him go as well.

If a gun was put to his head, he’d pick Otabek anyway

The following few nights are awkward, as both understand there’s a countdown for Hero to leave.

On the final night, it is silent. Neither speaks as they guard the town. There is no goodbye, and Yuri feels like a failure.

The days are worse, as Yuri has the option to ask Otabek to stay because he doesn’t belong to Kazakstan the way Hero does to his country. Yuri nearly bites his own tongue off twenty times as he swallows down how badly he wants to beg Otabek not to leave.

He remembers every hero who loved and lost a civilian and refuses, even as he drives Otabek to the airport.

Otabek keeps staring at him, waiting for something he can never offer.

He departs, taking parts of Yuri with him.

Uh this is getting long and we’re at risk at me deleting this in favor of a 10k actual fic version of this so let me wrap up

Yuri sulks for weeks, is a beast to everyone

Beka returns after a month, as does Hero

(the person I’m waiting for is still here. Yuri is still clueless)

Beka’s life is at risk somehow as a civilian but separate from Yuri

Yuri realizes that danger can come regardless and commits to dating Otabek

Yuri tries to confess to Beka, but fucks up horribly, accidentally makes it seem like he’s settling for Beka because he can’t have Hero.

A lot of fucking drama, so much crying

Georgi screaming in the background about how he just left Japan, why is he dealing with this again

Eventually Yuri proves he’s wanted Beka the entire time, long drawn out love confession where he offers to leave Russia and being a superhero (what he loves most) behind if Otabek will have him

Beka is weak, so weak by love

Reveals he’s the Hero, specifically the Hero of Kazakhstan (super famous, super skilled, kick ass costume inspired by his skating uniform) and has known Yuri since they trained together as kids

Traumatic backstory where people always loved Hero, not Otabek

Yuri’s like “I love you for you, you could retire tomorrow, I still want to be here…WAIT NO YOU GOT TO RETIRE RIGHT NOW I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU HURT OH MY GOD RETIRE”

Beka eventually calms him down and they live happily ever after. They spend vacations in Kazakhstan

“Beka, do they even have villains here?”

“Beka, do they even have a training program for heroes here?”

And a lot of time in Russia, where Otabek takes on Yuri’s training duties of baby superheroes/kids with powers while Yuri scouts and fights

Victor is offended no one thanks him at their wedding for setting this entire thing in motion.

I frantically typed this out so sorry for the bad spelling and sorry again for not following the prompt. Should I make this an actual fic?

Update 1/16: Here, it’s becoming a fic.

#otayuri #oturi #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #my writing #answering anon #anon #superhero au #batcat!au

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